Loving a Killer
by katnisssullen
Summary: Finch Vosskron is a killer. Despite the constant assasination and burglary, she's managed to stay true to who she is, a young woman born for adventure. But one day, she meets Vorstag, a Nord mercenary living in Markarth. Will Vorstag win her over, or will she stay independent? When you are in love with a killer, anything can happen.
1. Finch

CH. 1

Vorstag P.O.V.

Argis winks at the Argonian woman sitting at the bar. I try to make out his words to her, but to no avail. Whatever he's decided to say to her earns him a glare and a hard slap across the face. The idle housecarl staggers backwards, scowling as he walks back over to me with a hand on his reddened cheek. I grin at him, shaking my head. Argis takes a seat next to me as I take a swig of mead and hand him the bottle.

"Any luck?" I jest rhetorically, chuckling. He rolls his eyes, lifting the bottle to his lips and gulping down the rest.

"I've never had much luck with Argonians, anyway." he slurs, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Not that you've had any luck on this night, either."

I shrug my shoulders at him. The truth is: I've never had any luck with women. Why tell Argis that, though? What would others think of me if they knew that I've never successfully bedded a woman? I'm not some weedy milk-drinker, but my friends may think so if they found out. It may be childish, lying to others in order to simply build a reputation, but I could count on my fingers a vast number of people who do just that for the same reason. "I don't mind. Plus, how am I supposed to have a good time if I'm tied down to some miss, anyway? I'm not going to risk freedom for some bitch-" I rabble on to him.

"The trick is to find the right girl. If you find the right one, you'll bed her and get away with it with no strings attached, easily."

I shrug and open my mouth to speak, but a hush falls over the room.

The door closes as I turn my head towards the noise. A young woman wearing hide armor glances around at all of the faces staring silently at her. I don't recognize her, though I cannot see her face very well. The bard man, who was before speaking to the bartender, decides to lighten the mood. He picks up his lute and begins to sing, "The Dragonborn Comes." A few people chuckle lightheartedly, and their chatter endures.

The lady exhales through her nose, steadily approaching the counter. She takes a seat as Kleppr, the bartender, tries to chat with her. I turn my attention back to Argis. "What about her?" I enquire, asking his opinion.

Argis shoots me a look as if he's just seen a ghost. "Are you mad?! Of course not her!" he exclaims, furrowing his brow.

I stare at him, flustered by his change in tone. "Why not? What's wrong with her?" I ask him, glancing back and forth between the woman and Argis.

"I hope you're just joking with me." he states, crossing his arms. When I shake my head, he raises an eyebrow.

"That's Finch Vosskron." Argis tells me. The name sounds familiar, but I still can't make out her face from this distance.

"Who is she?" I ask him to specify.

Argis's jaw drops open. "FINCH VOSSKRON is the woman who saved the entire world from Alduin, Vorstag! She's the DRAGONBORN! Not to mention she also is the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, the leader of The Dark Brotherhood, the leader of The Thieves' Guild-"

"She seems perfectly harmless to me." I murmur, my gaze set on her face. Now that I've sat up, I have a much better view of her. I definitely have never met her before, because I would have remembered her. She has long, dark brunette hair that falls perfectly and ends halfway down her back. Her skin is very pale, resembling the fresh-fallen snow that I sometimes see just beyond Markarth. Her lips are pink like the skies when the sun sets over the mountains. I don't care what Argis says: this woman is absolutely lovely.

"Fine, don't listen to me. Trifle with the assassin, watch what happens. No good can come of it." Argis grunts as I stand up and head over to where she's sitting. I slowly take a seat at the bar next to her, calling the bartender over.

"Can I have some mead?" I ask him.

"I'm not quite sure, can you?" he responds rhetorically.

Before I can shoot him a look back, I hear Finch chuckle breathily. Kleppr hands me the mead as I turn my head towards her. I grin back at her, taking a sip of the drink. "How are you doing today, ma'am?" I ask her.

"Drinking and not trying to act so formal." she responds flatly, shrugging.

I bite my lip at her remark as she turns her head to me. She gives me a half-smile. "That was a joke, you know. I was just kidding."

"Oh," I answer, smiling. "I… knew that."

"All right." she replies, taking a drink of her ale. We sit in silence for a moment as I think of something to say. I can't say the wrong thing to her, or else I'll lose her. If I fail at this, I may never see her again. She may not come back to The Silver-Blood Inn in fear that some other pig will try to hit on her again.

"I'm a mercenary, you know." I tell her. She looks up at me and sits up. "I've heard of how you often go on adventures and fight various creatures…"

"So you want me to hire you?" she asks me. I purse my lips, nodding hopefully. Her sapphire-blue eyes flicker in thought as she stares at the counter. She exhales through her nose.

"I… I suppose I could use some help. How much would it cost me?" she inquires, turning her head to me once again.

"I, um… I guess it would be…" I stutter, trying to think of a price. I put myself in her position. What price would be fair for a hireling, but not too low? I know for a fact that she has a massive amount of money, but I'm sure she can still tell if a price is unreasonable. Just to be safe, I decide to let her have a say in it. "How about you make me an offer?"

"Okay, how about… 500 Septims?" she suggests, pulling a large coin purse out from her pocket. I nod, staring at the immense sum of money.

"Absolutely, it certainly sounds… reasonable." I choke out, gazing at her.

The Nord laughs inwardly at my reaction, finishing her drink and slapping a few coins on the counter. I grab a few coins and slap them on the counter in front of her, picking up hers and handing them back to her. "The drinks are on the house, my treat."

Finch stares at me taken aback by this, but accepts the offer and places the Septims back in her pocket. "Thank you…" she trails off, offering me her hand.

I shake her hand, standing up. "Vorstag. My name is Vorstag." I inform her, grinning.

She nods politely. "Thank you, Vorstag. My name is Finch Vosskron."

"Finch." I smile at her. "That's a lovely name. Like the bird."

The Nord smiles. "That's what I was named for." she replies, letting go of my hand. Finch clears her throat after a moment of stillness. "We'd best get going, Vorstag."

I nod, thinking. She's definitely a Nord; I can tell by the way she walks. She's the shortest Nord I've ever met, though. I must be at least a head's height taller than her. Finch leads me out of The Silver-Blood Inn. As she opens the door, I turn my head back to Argis and wink at him as he stares at me in disbelief. Well, I can't believe that I'm her hireling, either.


	2. The Forsworn Conspiracy

CH. 2

Finch P.O.V.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, I pivot on my heel to face my new hireling. Vorstag smiles at me.

"Where do you plan for us to go first, Miss Vosskron?" he asks me thoughtfully.

"Well," I start. "earlier today, I witnessed a murder at the market near the main entrance of the city. The killer shouted something about the Forsworn just before he was killed by the guards. When I asked one of them about it, they simply told me to mind my own business. Just after that, I was walking off when a man named Eltrys walked up to me and handed me a note. I asked him if the note was his, but he insisted that I had dropped it. Here." I put my hand in my pocket and pull the slightly crumpled note out. I smooth it out and open it, handing it to him.

He examines it for a minute and then reads it aloud. "Meet me at The Shrine of Talos." The mercenary bites his bottom lip, thinking it over. "I don't know if it's such a good idea. The guards don't seem to like people snooping around, especially when they're inquiring about the Forsworn."

"I'd anticipated that. That's exactly why I want to investigate. There's obviously something vital going on, something bigger than all of this." I argue pragmatically.

He sighs. "Are you sure of this? Everybody in Markarth has always seemed to go by a 'curiosity killed the cat' manner of thinking. It may be dangerous."

I nod, taking the note and folding it back up. "I expect danger. It seems that the only way to get what you want in Tamriel is bribery, and it always comes with a price." I tuck the letter into my pocket.

"I'm not so sure, I've already had quite a few drinks too many…" he hesitates, rubbing his neck.

"You're not losing your nerve, are you?" I smile at him.

Vorstag shakes his head, standing up tall. "Of course I'm not, no. Let's get going, it's this way," he informs me, leading me down the stairs. As we venture towards the shrine, he slows down to walk beside me.

"What can you tell me about yourself?" he probes, sauntering at my side.

"Oh, well…" I vacillate, biting my lip.

"You can tell me. I highly doubt that anything you tell me could take me by surprise," he reassures me.

"All right, well… I'm the Dragonborn, and I've just defeated Alduin in Sovngarde about a month ago. I'm the new leader of The Dark Brotherhood after Astrid, due to her death. I'm also the leader of The Thieves' Guild and the Arch-Mage at the College of Winterhold. I aided Ulfric Stormcloak in the defeat of the Imperial Legion. You're… not an Imperial, are you?" I question him, my voice wavering.

Vorstag shakes his head. "I've never had a very strong position in the war," he informs me. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, well… frankly, I always feel a bit uneasy when I inform an Imperial that I'm part of the cause that ruined their Empire." I admit, my cheeks burning red.

"So you're fine with slaying dragons, but when you're faced with some ordinary Imperial man, you feel anxious?" he jokes.

I grin at him. "I suppose it is a bit incongruous." I laugh breathily as we reach the shrine. I step forward, reaching forward slowly and pushing the door open. We enter the seemingly vacant place and look at each other apprehensively. We decide to push forward to the shrine itself.

Just as I decide that nobody is here and that we should leave, a voice calls out from behind us, startling me.

"You, there," The masculine voice shouts as I turn around. Eltrys stands several feet behind me, leaning up against a pillar.

"Hello, sir. You're the one I saw in the marketplace, correct?" I ask, stepping forward.

"Yes, I am. Look- I'm sorry to drag you into Markarth's problems, but after that attack in the market, I'm running out of time. You're an outsider. You're dangerous-looking. You'll do," he explains hurriedly.

"I'll do?" I ask him, bemused as to what he is suggesting. "I'll do for what?"

He stares at me, exasperated, stepping forward. "You want answers?" he asks, crossing his arms. "Well, so do I. So does everyone in this city. A man goes crazy in the market. Everyone knows he's a Forsworn agent. Guards do nothing. Nothing but clean up the mess."

I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking back to the incident this morning when I arrived. "You want me to find out why." I finally understand.

"Maybe we should go, Miss Vosskron…" Vorstag suggests from behind me.

"No," I state. "not yet."

Eltrys glances back and forth between us with wild eyes. It's obvious that this controversy has been slowly gnawing at him over time. "This has been going on for years, and all I've been able to find is murder and blood. I need help. Please. Find out why that woman was attacked, who's behind Weylin and the Forsworn, and I'll pay you for any information you bring me."

Vorstag opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. "What do you know about the woman that was murdered?" I ask Eltrys, putting my hands on my hips. It's dangerous to do the favor, I know, but Eltrys is right. The people of Markarth need answers to this conspiracy; everyone does.

"Her name was Margaret. She's not from Markarth. The air about her screamed 'outsider.' Visitors to the city usually stay at The Silver-Blood Inn," he informs me. Oh, wonderful. Now we have to turn back around and head back to where we just were.

"And the murderer? Who was he?" I inquire.

"His name was Weylin. He was one of the smelter workers. I used to have a job down there myself, casting iron ingots. I never knew much about Weylin, except he lived in the Warrens, like all the other workers," he nods to me as if he is remembering something.

"The Forsworn… they used to rule Markarth, correct?" I query.

The Breton man nods. "They're natives of The Reach, followers of the old ways. The Nords drove them out of the city; Ulfric Stormcloak and his men. That was about twenty years ago. But they're still here, and they're still killing people." he finishes finally.

"You've… looked into these murders?" I enquire.

"Yes," he starts. "it all started when I was a boy. My father owned one of the mines. Rare for anyone who isn't a Nord. He was killed. Guards said it was just a madman, but everyone knew the murderer was a member of the Forsworn. I've been trying to find out why ever since. Gotten nowhere so far, and then I got married." The Breton beams warmly, probably thinking about his companion. "Have a child of my own on the way. I swore I was going to give up, for my child's sake, but it's like my father's ghost is haunting me, asking me, 'Why?"'

"And what of the consequences you might face for looking into this conspiracy?" Vorstag speaks up. "Don't you worry about them, about the possibility that you and perhaps even your family could be severely chastised?"

I suppose that Vorstag has a point. What happens if Eltrys is caught sticking his nose where it shouldn't be? That could put his entire family at risk.

Eltrys frowns. "I know. I know what could come of this if the guards find out, but… for some reason I feel as if I'm destined to disclose the truth behind all of this… this madness. I've been looking into it for so long… it feels like I've absolutely forsaken my father if I surrender now. Please, you two must help me."

I sigh, giving in. How could I possibly decline his offer? I know how he feels, being trapped within a cage, feeling helpless. It's too dangerous for him to go and investigate himself. He's going to be a father soon, and it could put his entire family in jeopardy. I don't have any family left. Last I heard, they were killed years ago; not long after I left Skyrim. When I came home, there was nothing left for me. If I did the investigating for Eltrys, I would be the one that the guards frame, because I'm the one with nothing to lose.

I bid farewell to the soon-to-be father, exiting the Shrine of Talos with Vorstag. I can feel his eyes on the back of my head. I turn around, and my thoughts are proven right when I find his eyes are locked on me. I sigh. "I know it's risky, but… I don't want him getting hurt. He has a bright future ahead of him; it would be wrong to deprive him of it."

"But you do too, Finch," Vorstag tells me. "I'm positive of it. You've already saved the world, and you can't even be twenty-five years old, yet."

I give him a half-smile. "I just turned twenty-two a few days ago."

"Exactly. Your life is just beginning," he informs me, smiling.

I stare at the ground, thinking. Why is he being so kind to me? I've known very few people throughout my life who were so… blithe. Most of those who I've met were very troubled, barely scraping by on the meager sum of coin that they had to support their family. Vorstag is just so… buoyant.

"Let's get going…" I trail off, leading us back to The Silver-Blood Inn.

Vorstag P.O.V.

I stare at Finch as she reads through the journal. I don't leave Markarth very often, but I've never seen anybody who was as gorgeous as she is. Her sapphire eyes flicker back and forth across the page, immersed in it. After a minute, she closes the book and stands up. "Margaret mentioned a man named Thonar in the journal. I think she was some sort of… spy. Do you think he wanted her to be killed?" she asks me.

I shrug, scarcely paying attention. "I'm not quite sure. Perhaps investigating Weylin's room in The Warrens will give us the information we need?" I propose, standing up.

"Perhaps you're right; a single journal isn't enough to go off of. Come on, let's get going," she proclaims, nearly sprinting to the door. I swear, this woman can never sit still…

We're just out the door of the inn when Finch runs smack into one of the guards. She falls flat on her rear, hitting the stone. I lend her a hand and help her to her feet.

"I apologize, sir, I didn't mean to…" she starts.

"Save your apologies, woman." he spits, crossing his arms. "You two have been snooping around. Here's some advice: back off. You've no business with the Forsworn, so I suggest you mind your _own _business. Are we clear?"

Finch nods. "Yes, sir, I'm sorry. It won't happen again.

"Good," the guard nods, walking off. After a moment, Finch looks up at me.

"Where are The Warrens?" she asks hurriedly.

"I thought you said-" I begin, but she cuts me off.

"It doesn't matter what he said. We've come this far already. Let's go," she nods to me, waving her hand. I sigh, giving in and leading her to The Warrens. I've only actually been inside the place once, when I was just a child. I barely recognize the place when we arrive, but it's still barren as usual.

Not a moment after we enter, a man steps forward, unsheathing a dagger and approaching us.

"Who are you?" he asks us defensively, pointing the dagger at Finch. I place my hand on the handle of my sword slowly, trying not to catching his attention.

"Did Weylin stay here?" Finch asks, taking a step back.

The man steps forward. "Ah, I see. You're here to investigate about that occurrence in the marketplace. A word of advice: don't stick your nose in where it doesn't belong when you're in Markarth. The two of you have no business here; The Warrens are here to give the miners a place to lay their heads, not a place for snoops to investigate!" he booms, waving the dull piece of steel in front of Finch's face.

"Please, Sir, we'd really appreciate your help," Finch implores with sad eyes stepping forward so that she is face to face with the man. I grip the sword, ready to unsheathe the blade.

The man snorts, crossing his arms. "Go bother someone else. Good day to you, meddlers." he retorts, walking off.

Finch approaches me, the pathetic look wiped off of her face. She grins at me, lifting her hand up to reveal that she is holding the key to Weylin's room.

"How did you…" I start. Finch shushes me, putting a finger to her lips. I nod as we tiptoe silently over to Weylin's room.

"Close the door. Quietly," she whispers just loud enough so that I can hear her. I comply, shutting the door behind us slowly. Finch digs around the room for a minute, searching through every nook and cranny she can find before finally discovering Weylin's note. We sit down on his bed as she unfolds the note, carefully reading through.

"It says it's from… N," she states.

"N? Who could that possibly be?" I inquire.

She bites her lip. "I bet Thonar knows…" she ponders. I look at her, nodding.

We tiptoe to the door, opening it ever so quietly. Once we get out, we walk stealthily back outside as if nothing had happened. I open the door, only to find a Breton man standing outside. He steps towards Finch, scowling at her. "It's time you'd learned a lesson."

Finch's eyes widen. "Vorstag, stay back," she orders, backing up. She ducks as he throws a punch at her, and his fist hits the stone wall. He groans as she slips away, only to have him grab onto her shoulder. Finch turns around slowly, and then Dryston swings his fist at her. His fist hits her hard in the jaw, knocking her backwards onto the ground. Finch tries to defend herself, but he grabs her wrist and twists it. Finch grimaces, yelping, as he lifts his fist up to swing at her once more.

I stomp forward, tapping him on the shoulder. Dryston turns his head to look at me, giving me the chance to grab his throat. I shove him, causing him to fall to the ground. Before he has the chance to get back up, I clench my fist and swing at his face. It hits his eye, and it swells up almost instantly. I let go of him, letting his head hit the ground as he gasps for air. I look over at Finch who has a nasty bruise on her jaw, now. I grab her hand, pulling her back up.

"Who sent you? What do you know about 'N'?" Finch questions hostilely.

"I was sent by him, by Nepos the Nose," he spits, panting.

I look at Finch, nodding. We leave him there, trying pitifully to get back on his feet. We head up the steps. "I think we should find evidence about Thonar before we do anything else. Then we can go see Nepos," she explains.

"Are you all right?" I ask worriedly, examining the bruise on her jaw. She nods.

"I'll be fine," she states, rubbing her jaw.

"All right…" I respond doubtfully. "Shouldn't we see Eltrys, first?"

Finch tilts her head, thinking. "We can do that after. Let's get going," she nods.

I nod back, leading on. She's very eager to get this information for Eltrys. Why does she insist on pressing on? The consequences for this could be deadly if she goes any farther. I'd best keep my sword ready. When we reach The Treasury House, she stops at the door.

"Have you ever been here?" she inquires, turning to me. I shake my head.

"No, I haven't. The Treasury House is really only for members of the Silver-Blood family. It's where they keep all of their silver that the prisoners at the Cidhna Mine Prison mine for them."

"The Cidhna Mine?" she queries, tilting her head.

I nod. It's odd that she's never heard of it. She must have been away from Skyrim for very long. "Yes, it's the most secure prison in Skyrim. Nobody has ever escaped. They say the only pastime that the prisoners down there have is mining silver. That's how they pay for their crimes."

She nods, thinking. "Let's… keep going," her voice wavers hesitantly as she pushes the door open. A woman I recognize, Rhiada, stands behind the front desk. Wait a minute… Rhiada… she's Eltrys' wife. Does that mean that Rhiada is pregnant?

Finch approaches Rhiada at the desk, leaning on the counter. "I need to see Thonar." she declares.

"I'm sorry, but Thonar has asked not to be disturbed right now," she tells us calmly.

Finch pulls a coin purse out of her pocket. This girl is made of money… "How about now?" she asks, setting the coin on the counter. Rhiada examines it a minute, and then grabs it off the counter, placing it in her pocket.

"Go right in, Miss," she smiles, leaning on the counter. Finch thanks Rhiada, grabbing my arm and pulling me along with her as she ventures towards Thonar's room. She pushes the door open forcefully, stepping inside. Thonar is right by the door, sitting at a table.

"What are you doing here? I told them no visitors," Thonar snaps, crossing his arms.

"I'm here to talk about Margaret," she tells him, stepping forward.

"The Imperial Agent. This is my business, my city. You Empire lovers should mind your own business. Now get out." he booms, scowling at us.

"I'm not an 'Empire lover,'" Finch glares at him. Thonar ignores her, waving his hand dismissively.

"Now get out," he answers, turning away. Just as we turn away, we hear him exclaim, "What? Oh, Betrid! By the gods!" We turn around as he runs past us, down the stairs. We follow him hurriedly, only to find that his wife is lying on the floor, dead. An old woman stands beside her corpse, wielding a sword. Finch grabs the bow from her back, drawing the arrow and aiming it towards the old woman who seems to be one of the perpetrators. She fires the arrow into her shoulder, only to have the woman come forward with the sword and slice at her stomach. Finch backs away just in time to avoid serious damage, but she still gets a fairly deep cut. I grab my sword, running past Finch and swinging at the old woman's head. She dies on impact, fortunately, and she hits the ground with a loud thud.

Finch puts her hand on her abdomen, where the woman's sword has cut through her armor. She groans and turns towards Thonar.

"My wife, they killed her! Damn Madonach!" he bellows, clenching his fists.

"I'm… sorry," Finch sympathizes.

"No, you're not," he accuses. "You want to know who the Forsworn are? They're my puppets. I have their king rotting in The Cidnha Mine. He was supposed to keep them under control."

"You have a deal with the Forsworn?" she questions, furrowing her brow.

"When their uprising was crushed, I had their Madonach brought to me. He was a wild animal, but a useful one. I've let him run his little 'Forsworn Rebellion' from inside The Cidnha Mine, because we had a deal. A deal that is now out of control. You and Madonach are animals! I'll see you both rot to death in The Cidhna Mine for this!" he exclaims, turning red.

"Let's go," Finch mutters, turning away. I look back at the man's glaring face one last time. Finch is in trouble. The Silver-Bloods have the last say in everything that occurs in the city. If Thonar Silver-Blood wants something done, it's going to be done. I finally realize that Rhiada is missing from behind the counter. I stand on my toes to better see over the counter. No, she's not missing… her limp body lies there next to the gate that holds all of their silver within. Rhiada is dead.

When the door closes, Finch and I turn to each other. Should I tell her who the woman was, that she was going to be a mother? Would she feel guilty if she knew that the woman was Eltrys' wife? Perhaps I should just tell her, she's bound to find out eventually. "The woman you were talking to was Eltrys' wife." I blurt out. She raises her eyebrows.

"The woman behind the counter?" she asks, staring at me. I nod. "That means that… that she was…" Finch lowers her head, her eyes wide.

"What should we do?" I ask her, frowning. She sighs, crossing her arms.

"We have to tell him. He may never forgive me, but… Eltrys has to know. This cannot be kept from him," Finch frowns, her eyes teary. "We shouldn't have gotten involved. This was all a big mistake."

"He knew that his family was in jeopardy. He knew that he was risking everything. This is what he wants, to solve this controversy. We've come so far, we can't just stop now," I advise her.

"Perhaps you're right, but he does have to know. We'll tell him, and then if he wants to press on, we'll talk to Nepos," Finch plans, walking towards The Shrine of Talos.

Finch closes her eyes once we reach the door, hesitantly pushing it open. We walk inside, only to see a guard standing next to the shrine over a man's corpse. No, that can't be… Finch marches forward as one of the guards pulls out his sword on her, pointing it at her throat.

"We warned you, but you just had to go and cause trouble. Now, we have to pin all these recent murders on you, silence witnesses. Work, work, work." he tells her nonchalantly.

"What did you to do Eltrys?" she barks, stepping closer to him.

"Same thing we do with all of the natives who want to change things around here. We had a nice little deal going on between Madonach and Thonar until you and Eltrys started snooping around. Oh, and this one, too." he states, pointing to me with his other hand. "Well, you wanted to find the man responsible for those killings? You'll have plenty of time with The King in Rags when you spend time with him in The Cidhna Mine."

"You'll never take me alive!" Finch shouts, grabbing a dagger from her belt. I draw my sword, running towards them. Finch slashes at him, but he backs away and dodges the blade. He lifts his foot, kicking her hard in the stomach. She falls backwards, hitting her head on the ground. She groans in pain as I swing my blade at the man, but he ducks just in time, stabbing me in the leg. I feel a stinging pain for a short moment before my entire leg becomes sore. I fall to the ground, moaning in pain as the guard kicks my sword away from me. He walks over to Finch as she tries desperately to crawl away, but to no avail. The guard steps on her lower back, successfully holding her in place as he hits her temple with the butt of his sword, causing her to black out. I begin to feel dizzy as I continue to lose blood. The guard walks over to me, putting his foot on my chest and pushing me to the ground.

The last thing I hear before I pass out is, "You'll never see the sun again, you hear me? No one escapes Cidhna Mine. No one."


	3. Cidnha Mine

A/N: So, this is the third chapter of _Loving a Killer. _This chapter will take place in the Cidhna Mine. I know that many of the conversations throughout this fic don't actually happen or are worded differently or some things are added, but I don't want to completely copy the dialogue in the game; I'm trying my best to keep things interesting XD Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review! (Seriously, I only have one review right now ) P.S. I know that this fic has been rated M, but there hasn't been any… "adult-ish" material. Trust me, the next chapter will be a bit more fitting for an M rating ;)

CH. 3

Finch P.O.V.

"Up, prisoner!" a woman yells at me, kicking my arm. My eyes snap open to find that an exasperated Orc is glaring at me. I sit up, taking in my surroundings. I'm in a small room with walls made up of dirt and stone. The room has two gates on opposite sides and a small table in the corner. It's definitely a prison. "All right, prisoner," the Orcish woman spits, grabbing the collar of my ragged robes and pulling me to my feet. "You're in Cidnha Mine, now. There's no resting in a cell in this prison. Here, you work. You'll be mining ore until you start throwing up silver bars. You got it?"

I scowl, crossing my arms. "I'm sorry; I'm a little deaf in this ear." I mutter sarcastically.

"Don't get smart with me, I'm in charge. You backtalk to me and I'll have your toes cut off!" she growls, letting go of my collar. Satisfied, I smirk as she looks away. "All right, open her up!" she shouts to someone as the gate I'm facing swings open. "Now you," she points to me. "go down there." I comply, knowing I don't have a choice, and exit the room. I find myself inside of a large mine. Oh, how wonderful. I'm stuck in here, the most secure prison in Skyrim, for a crime I never committed. How typical. I walk down the wooden railing as the gate closes behind me. Once I reach the bottom, I notice a man slouching by a fire. I walk over to him, and he looks up at me. "What are you in for, new blood?" he asks, looking back at the fire.

"Murder." I murmur, crossing my arms.

"Violent one, huh? Best keep that to yourself; the others find out, they'll consider it a challenge. My advice? Serve your time with a pickaxe and get out. You don't want to get a shiv in the gut over a bottle of Skooma," he tells me, crossing his arms.

"Skooma? What's that?" I ask him. He looks at me as if I'm a child who just asked how babies are made.

"Bottles of Moon Sugar. Khajiit use it as a… pick me up. Good way to pass the time. Prisoners smuggle the stuff in. Only form of currency we have down here," he says nonchalantly.

"What are you in for?" I ask, sitting down on the ground by the fire.

"A Nord Nobleman I served was stabbed in the night. Wasn't me, but I knew I'd be blamed. So I ran. Joined the Forsworn. Started killing… then I got caught. Now I'm here," he shrugs.

It's silent for a moment as we sit in front of the fire. I suddenly remember something. "Was… another man brought in here with me when I was arrested?"

"Yes, I believe so. Why do you ask? Is he an enemy? Is he… a lover of yours?" the man taunts, smirking.

I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. "No, actually, he's a mercenary. A hireling, if you must know."

"Right, sure he is. I expect you want to know where your boyfriend is?" he asks, looking up at me.

"Mercenary." I snap. "And, yes, I do want to know where he is."

He points to one of the tunnels. "Saw him go that way. I believe he was wondering where you were, too. You shouldn't keep him waiting," he snickers, delighted by my annoyance.

I walk away and venture through the dimly lit, narrow tunnel. I come across two men, both of them pounding away with a pickaxe at a silver ore vein. One of the men, this one must be a Breton, turns to me. "Something you want, Nord?" he asks, crossing his arms. He laughs. "Nord. You must be the shortest Nord I've ever seen. Your boyfriend is down that tunnel, if that's who you're looking for."

I cross my arms. Some people have such nerve. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Right, sure he's not. He is the one you're searching for, though, isn't he?" he inquires, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

I nod. "Who are you?" I query, uncrossing my arms.

"Odvan. Silver-Bloods locked me up in here over a misunderstanding. Thought I was a Forsworn. I've been here a couple years, joined up with the Forsworn after I was locked up. It seemed to be the easiest way," he explains, continuing his mining. "What about you, Nord? Who are you?"

"I'm Finch. I was framed for murdering a few people." I inform him, my voice an octave lower.

"Did you kill them?" he asks. I shake my head.

"No, I was looking into the entire 'Forsworn Conspiracy' for a friend." I explain.

"And where is that friend now?" he questions, looking me in the eyes.

I purse my lips, putting my hands on my hips. "He's dead. Him, his wife, and his unborn child. They're a few of the people whose murders I was framed for."

He nods in empathy. "I don't even know the man who I had supposedly murdered. The Nords blamed it on me. Wasn't anything I could do about it," he mutters. "Was your boyfriend convicted for murder, too?"

"He was a suspect. I guess they couldn't bear to let any suspects escape. Too dangerous." I roll my eyes. "I have to go. I'll… see you around, I suppose."

He nods, bidding me goodbye, and I continue my way down the tunnel until I reach the end. Vorstag sits on the ground against the wall, while another prisoner is standing next to him. Vorstag looks up, a grin growing on his face. Vorstag stands up, walking towards me. "It's good to see you again, Finch," he slurs, embracing me. I stand on my toes and look past his shoulder at the other prisoner, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You must be Finch. He's been worried sick about you. He kept whining on about how he thought you were dead. He started getting obnoxious, so I considered borrowing a shiv from Grisvar. Instead, I decided to give him a bottle of Skooma. Then I gave him a few more. I was hoping to drink some tonight, but it was worth giving to him when he finally shut up," the man murmurs in a husky voice, crossing his arms. I let go of Vorstag, looking up at him.

"How many did he drink?" I inquire, raising my eyebrows.

"Hm… about… seven. He started acting like this at five, but I gave him a couple more for good measure," the man informs me.

"It… won't last long, will it?" I enquire.

"I don't think so… give him an hour or so, he should be back to his whiny self by then," he shrugs, sitting down against the wall.

"Hello, Finchy Finchy Finchy Finch-" he slurs. I shush him.

"You should sleep. You drank way too much Skooma." I pat him on the shoulder, leading him back up through the tunnel.

"I'll be fine, Finch," Vorstag stumbles, holding onto my shoulder for support. He snorts. "Fine, Finch," he repeats. "That rhymes…"

"Actually, you're thinking of alliteration. Alliteration is when-" I start. Vorstag leans down and interrupts when his lips crash into mine. My eyes go wide immediately, and I shove him away.

"Sorry," he slurs sleepily, rubbing his head. "I've wanted to do that for a while."

My jaw drops open. Is there truth behind his statement, or is it simply his drunken manner that has made him want to kiss me? He's my hireling, not my boyfriend! Is this the only reason why he's been acting so benevolently towards me? I stare at him in shock for a minute, broodingly. I attempt to change the subject. "Do you know where Madanach is? Did anybody mention anything about him?"

He nods. "The, um… guy by the fire out there. I usked hum urler, und he said that Macanach is behin that gate thingy, but it's gurded by the stocky Orc mun," the mercenary murmurs, rubbing his eyes.

I raise an eyebrow at him. "How about you go to sleep?" I suggest. He nods, walking off. I shake my head, walking back out towards the fire. Once I'm there, I spot the thickset Orc man standing in front of the gate with his arms crosses. I approach him, and he stares at me.

"The new meat." he looks me up and down. "So soft, tender… what was it like killing your first one, huh?"

I stare at the ground. "I'm not a murderer." I tell him.

"Liar," he grunts simply.

I scowl, looking up at him. "I need to see Madanach." I inform him.

He looks at me as if I'm mad. "You want to talk to The King in Rags? Fine. But first you've got to pay the toll."

Vorstag P.O.V.

My eyes flutter open finally. For a moment I wonder where I am, why I'm sleeping in a pile of dirt. Then I finally remember that I'm in prison. I've never been to prison once in my life, and now here I am in the most secured prison in all of Skyrim. I groan, rubbing my eyes and sitting up. I find myself sitting by the bonfire. Finch is sitting next to me, holding a piece of fabric to her nose. She's bruised badly all over, glaring at the ground.

"Finch, what happened?" I ask worriedly, scooting closer to her.

"I went to see Madanach, but I had to get past Borkul first. He challenged me to a brawl. I lost. Badly," she murmurs, glancing at Borkul. He smirks, crossing his arms.

"So I got the shiv for him, instead," she finishes, rolling her eyes.

"Well, are you all right?" I query, sitting up.

"I'll be just fine," she mutters. Finch yelps when I try to pull the fabric away to examine her nose. She frowns, slouching forward and groaning.

"You're not fine, he broke your nose!" I exclaim. The Nord bites her lip, avoiding my gaze.

"That's all?" I hear Braig ask. I turn my head towards him as he stands up from the opposite side of the fire and walks over to Finch. He signals for her to stand up, and she complies.

"Can I see your nose?" he asks. Hesitantly, she removes the bloody cloth. Her nose doesn't seem to be hemorrhaging any more, but the bridge is crooked. Braig wipes the excess blood from under her nose. Suddenly, he forcefully grabs her nose and twists it back into its normal position with a loud cracking noise. I shudder as Finch shrieks loudly, holding her swollen nose.

"You're welcome," Braig grunts, sitting back down. The other men guffaw, talking amongst themselves. Finch sits back down, letting her hands drop into her lap. She gazes at me, her eyes deep in thought. She wrings her hands. "Vorstag, do you…are you infatuated with me?" she queries, her cheeks burning red.

"W-why do you ask?" I stutter, staring at her.

"Earlier, when you were drunk, you… kissed me. Then you said that you'd wanted to do it for a while. Is… that true?" she explains, avoiding my gaze.

I bite my cheek. "It, well… yes, I do, frankly. You're beautiful, Finch." I tell her honestly.

Finch gives me the tiniest of smiles, looking into my eyes. "Thank you. Do you mean it?"

"Of course I do. You must not look at your reflection very often." I grin at her. "Not to mention the fact that you're still beautiful now, covered in cuts and bruises."

She giggles, smiling at the ground. We're silent for a moment before her face contorts in pain. She holds her abdomen, grimacing, and stands up. Finch glances down at her abdomen, pulling her arms away, only to find that she's bleeding. "The cut, it's bleeding again," she realizes.

"From the sword?" I ask. She nods. "Well… how bad is it?"

"I don't know, I can't tell. I'd only be able to tell if I wasn't wearing these robes…" she trails off.

"You can't just leave it alone!" I exclaim, standing up.

"But, I would have to take my clothes off in front of you all..." she states coyly.

"Well, you're wearing undergarments, aren't you?" I inquire.

"Yes, but…" she hesitates, biting her bottom lip.

I furrow my brow, crossing my arms. "Finch, you can't just leave it alone! If you don't take your clothes off, I'll do it myself!" I tell her a bit too loudly. The others finally pay attention, turning their heads in surprise. Everybody is still. "It's… not what it sounds like."

"It sounds like the two of you need some privacy…" Odvan states, standing up. They all look at each other, nodding and leaving. I gaze at Finch.

She sighs, pulling off her robes. My breathing hitches slightly, and I try my best not to scrutinize her. Finch throws her clothes on the ground, examining her cut. It's bleeding steadily, from what I can tell. The crimson of the blood glistens in the luminescence of the fire as she groans. "I don't have anything to stop it. What do I do?" she asks, frowning at me.

"Here," I say, pulling off my shirt and handing it to her. "It might help soak up the blood. You can just use it as gauze."

Finch shakes her head, pushing the shirt back into my hands. "It's cold, you need your shirt."

I hand it back to her, crossing my arms. "There's a fire if I get cold. A fire won't help your cut." I inform her.

She sighs, accepting the shirt. "Thank you," she tells me, tying the shirt around her waist tightly. "Why are you being so friendly to me?"

"I thought that we had already determined that." I tell her. She laughs quietly.

"Yeah, I guess so," Finch says, pushing a piece of hair from her face. She crosses her arms, exhaling. "I have to kill Grisvar the Unlucky."

I raise my eyebrows. "What do you mean you 'have to kill Grisvar'?" I ask her, my eyes widened.

"Madanach wants me to prove my trust, and so he's sent me to kill Grisvar. He says that Grisvar's 'outlived his usefulness.' I don't want to kill him, though. He never wronged me in any way…" she frowns.

"But… but you kill people all the time." I point out. "You're with The Dark Brotherhood."

Finch bites her lip. "I… don't like killing anybody. With The Dark Brotherhood… I don't know those people that I kill. It's so much easier to do my job when I know that, at the end of the day, everything comes down to money. But if they sent me to murder someone that I knew, personally… I couldn't do it. I wouldn't be able to," she explains, shaking her head.

"Then forget that you know him. Forget that you've spoken with him before, and erase your knowledge of him." I suggest, crossing my arms.

She shakes her head, smiling sadly. "If only it were that simple," Finch sighs.

I furrow my brow. Finch Vosskron is a killer. I thought that killers were supposed to be… well, not so unsettled by what they do. If she despises what she does, why does she insist on continuing her job as an assassin? "Why are you an assassin, then?" I ask.

She shrugs. "When I joined, I… I didn't have any food, or money. Astrid introduced the idea, said that it paid well. It seemed so easy at the time, killing in order to feed myself. The others killed for their own pleasure, though. Over time I started thinking about what I'd been doing, murdering people that may or may not have actually deserved it. It was me, personally, who killed the Emperor. That was right after most of the other assassins were killed by his agents. I was infuriated, and I had no problem with killing him. I wanted to avenge the other members. Before I shot an arrow through his heart, he had one last request: that I'd kill the man who had sent me to kill the Emperor. The Emperor didn't try to run, he took his death like the honorable man he was. It finally dawned on me that… that I wasn't the victim. I still don't truly know who the victim is. I killed Amaund Motierre, the man who requested I kill the Emperor. I killed him without mercy and left him to die alone in Whiterun. Then I took the sum of coin that he had left me. The memory of what I'd done to the Emperor has taken its toll on me. I wish I could restart everything with a clean slate, but it's far too late for that. There's no way I can ever clear all of the blood on my hands."

I bite my lip, thinking. Perhaps I've completely misjudged Finch. I thought at first that she was just a heartless killer with a pretty face, but… perhaps I was wrong. "No, but you can redeem yourself. When someone does a truly wholesome deed, others won't remember that person for the wrong things they did. People don't exactly know what to think of you because the good you've done outweighs the bad you've done, but sometimes people can only ever think of the wrong in things."

"So you're saying that nobody knows if I'm a good person or a bad person?" she asks in a monotone voice.

"I know very well that you're not at all a bad person." I reply matter-of-factly. She looks at me, staring into my eyes. The flames from the fire reflect in her glassy eyes, making it seem as if they've been set aflame.

"You think so?" she asks in disbelief. "You… think I'm a good person? But… but what about the people who I've killed? How can you possibly justify what I've done to them?"

I glance down at her abdomen, eyeing how prominent her ribs are. Has she even eaten anything today? She must have money to buy herself food, but why is it that she is so lean? Has she always been this way? She must have been starving when she joined The Dark Brotherhood, since she had not a single Septim. "When you joined The Dark Brotherhood, you couldn't afford to feed yourself. Only a fool wouldn't deny an offer for a large sum of coin in their time of need. You knew that you needed to feed yourself, so you accepted. You killed Imperials to defend what you stand for, and others were killed to avenge those you cared for or to defend yourself. At the end of the day, it all comes down to keeping yourself alive. That's what you did; you survived."

Finch's eyes flicker as she thinks it over. "It's not fair to those I've assassinated for The Dark Brotherhood that their demise was based on my own malnutrition. I could have just gone hunting, or…" she thinks, frowning.

"You wouldn't have anything to cook the meat in." I point out.

"No, but I could have just lived off of vegetables. I'm no stranger to that concept," she responds.

"You would have been ice-cold by the time that you gathered enough vegetables." I reply.

"So? I've dealt with it before. When I was a child my fingers would be chilled to the bone when I harvested vegetables, but it never stopped me from bringing them inside to my family," she reminisces, crossing her arms.

"You had somewhere to go after that, though." I retort. "You had the opportunity to head back inside-"

"Yeah, well, I didn't have a choice when I was alone for eight years!" she barks, her voice wavering. "From the time I was fifteen to the time I came back to Skyrim, I could only depend on myself! I didn't have _anywhere _to go, and I was perfectly adequate! Not that anybody cared, though. They just passed me off as some orphaned girl who roamed around, looking for somewhere to go. I suppose that's exactly right, though," Finch laughs coldly, glaring into the fire. After a moment of tense silence, she looks at me with an apologetic expression. "I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… let go."

"It's okay." I tell her. She frowns at the ground, crossing her arms.

"I thought that you were unsure of whether or not your parents were alive or not?" I ask, huffing out a sigh.

"About a year after I left home, some Imperials tracked me down. When I asked what they wanted with me, they told me that my family was dead. They didn't want word to get out about the ambush they had on the town, so they were tracking down all of the survivors so that they could finish them off. I was one of those survivors, and when I realized what they were going to do to me, I fled. I didn't want to believe what had happened to my home, but I didn't want to go back and realize that there wasn't anything left. So I was on my own for eight years, until I finally decided to come back to Skyrim. When I did I was arrested for trespassing and, well… you know what happens after that. Once the dragon attacked and I was able to escape, I journeyed back to where my hometown used to be, just Northeast of Rorikstead. I don't know why I went back, but… it wasn't my home any more. It was completely wiped out. I assume the Imperials had decided to clean up the ash that was left from when they burned the place to the ground, but they didn't get all of it. There were still traces of ash in the dirt. I don't plan on ever going back, trying to convince someone to help me rebuild the town. There's nothing left for me there," Finch explains.

I don't know what I should say to her at this moment that could possibly convince her that she's not a cruel, selfish person as she believes she is. It's fairly obvious that she has a very robust, abhorring opinion of herself. Instead, I change the topic back to the current issue at hand. "We're not going to get out of here unless you kill Grisvar." I say to her, staring at the fire.

"I know," she responds almost inaudibly. She breathes deeply. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her put her head in her hands, thinking. "I know that. I just… need time to think it over. I'm going to call it a night," she tells me, lying her head down on the chilled, tough ground.

There must be some other way to earn Madanach's trust... No, Madanach is a killer. Not like Finch, though. He's absolutely ruthless, heartless. Finch is merciful, at least. Perhaps Finch killing Grisvar is the only way to gain his trust. I suppose that I'll just have to find a way to convince her that it's all right, that there's no other way. I purse my lips, looking over at her. She's sound asleep, at least on the outside. I can't imagine what types of nightmares may have pestered her over the years. I wish I could help her fight her fears, but only she can do that. For now, all I can do is watch silently while she battles out her own evils.


	4. Thonar the Foolish

A/N: Okay, so… here's the next chapter I know that I said that this chapter would be more suited for an "M" rating, and I wasn't lying to you, but… even though I put a winking face after that, that doesn't necessarily mean that the M rating is for sexuality. Actually, this chapter, the M rating is for violence and strong language. When I put the winking face, I gave even myself the wrong idea. Then again, my mind is in the gutter, so… :P But I digress. Without further ado, here is my new chapter. I hope you enjoy it. :D

CH. 4

Vorstag P.O.V.

I awaken next to Finch on the ground. Her head lies on my chest, and her arms are wrapped around me. As much as I don't wish to, I decide to wake her up. I clear my throat. "Um, Finch?" I speak up to her. She smiles, her eyes fluttering open. As soon as she realizes what's going on, her eyes go wide and she quickly gets off of me, sitting up.

It's almost comical how quickly her mouth drops open. She glances around, scooting away. "I'm… I'm so sorry. I have no idea when I…" she trails off, avoiding my gaze. I chuckle.

"Don't worry, I don't mind a bit if you snuggle up to me." I grin at her. I laugh when her cheeks turn scarlet red.

"I didn't mean to, I swear," she apologizes as if she's just committed a felony. I sit up, smiling at her.

"You don't have to apologize, you know. It's like I said, I don't mind it at all." I remind her, smirking.

Finch bites her lip, discomfited by her actions. "I don't remember when I… Please just forgive me for-" she tries to apologize before shush her, cutting her off.

"Trust me, Finch, you did absolutely nothing wrong." I assure her, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. She purses her lips, smiling slightly. She combs through her dark hair with her fingers, scooting back over to me. She sighs.

"Thank you, Vorstag. You've been a good friend, even for the short time I've known you," she thanks me, smiling.

"Well, it's my job to protect you. I wouldn't be a very good mercenary if I was a bad friend to you." I joke. Finch grins.

"I suppose not," she answers, staring at the ground. The smile fades from her face as her eyes grow dim. "Vorstag… do you think there's any other way to convince Madanach that he can trust me?"

I was afraid that she would bring this up soon. I frown, slouching forward. "I… I'm not sure. Madanach doesn't seem to be the type of person who enjoys negotiating. I don't know that he would…"

"So I have to kill Grisvar?" Finch asks, staring off into space.

"I… think so. It's the only way we'll ever get out." I try to reassure her. Finch gazes into my eyes, and I'm immediately lost in hers. She tries to tell me something, but I don't hear her. Her eyes are absolutely magnificent with their azure color. I've seen girls with eyes the color of Finch's, but there's something about hers that are truly captivating. As I continue to gawk at her, she rolls her eyes and nudges me.

"Vorstag, I'm speaking to you," she reminds me, raising an eyebrow.

"I know, I know. I was just… thinking." I tell her. Finch stares skeptically at me.

"I might say that you're a good listener if I didn't already know that you aren't hearing a word I'm saying," she tells me, crossing her arms.

"How would you know if I was listening or not?" I query, putting my hands on my hips.

"Listeners are rarely listened to. They can tell if they're being ignored," she explains, pursing her lips tightly. "As I was asking, are we the only ones awake?"

I nod. "Yes, I'm fairly sure we are. Why do you ask?"

Finch opens her mouth to speak but instead she just looks at the floor. She's silent for a moment, not even bothering to look up at me. After a minute, she finally looks up at me with teary eyes. "I have to kill him. If I don't, we're most likely stuck here, right? I have to kill him… I _have _to…" she says to me, frowning.

"Finch, I know you don't want to. You don't have to do it right now-" I try to tell her.

"No, I need to just… get it over with. Before I change my mind," Finch sighs. "Can you just… can you come with me, please?"

"Of course I can." I tell her softly, nodding. "Of course…"

"Thank you…" she croaks out, wiping the tears from her eyes. Finch clears her throat. "Let's go." We walk gingerly, stealthily towards the tunnel where Grisvar sleeps. Finch crosses her arms, trying to fight off the chill of the dark tunnel. We find him sleeping quietly on the ground. Finch closes her eyes tightly, most likely trying to think of something else. She reaches down to her boot, pulling out a small, sharp knife. I remember hearing Borkul talk about it before, the weapon she has. It's called a shiv, and it's easy to conceal. That must be why Finch is carrying one around.

Finch kneels down to him, shakily positioning the knife over his heart with both hands. She exhales quietly through her nose, lifting the shiv. She shuts her eyes tightly, not wanting to look at the old man. Her hands plunge the knife deep into his chest, pushing down hard on it. The old man's eyes snap open as he begins to bleed profusely. His blood stains Finch's hands crimson, but she just turns her head away as he tries to push her off.

"I'm sorry," Finch chokes out, pushing down relentlessly on the shiv as her hands tremble. She pulls the knife out, stabbing him again next to the same wound. "I'm so sorry…" Grisvar the Unlucky scowls up at her, clenching his fists. Finch pulls the bloody shiv out of him again, and then she drives it into his temple. The man finally goes limp, unclenching his fists and closing his eyes. Finch's tears slide down her cheeks, falling on the face of Grisvar's carcass. She pulls the shiv out of his head, trying desperately to wipe off the blood. Finch tries her best to wipe all of the blood from her hands, but her efforts are in vain when she finds that they are stained red. Finch wipes the tears from her face, clearing her throat. She stands, turning her head from the dead man and towards me.

I nod at her solemnly, unknowing of what to say. I turn around with her, striding back out of the tunnel where we can leave the scene. We are noiseless as we exit the tunnel, the tenseness assembling a wall between us. When we arrive back to where we awoke this morning, we sit back down. Finch just now realizes that she is merely wearing her undergarments and my tunic that she tied around her waist. She looks down at her clothes and her hands go to untangle the knot she tied to keep the shirt in place. Gingerly, she peels the shirt off, assessing how bad the gash in her abdomen is now. It looks much better than it did last night; the bleeding has stopped completely. It's still very swollen, though her nose is, too.

I frown at her in sympathy. She has quite a few scars on her arms and legs already, so I highly doubt that this is the first time she's dealt with being wounded. Still, I wish I could do something to help her out, but I'm no apothecary. My mother taught me a few things about healing others, but being cut off from resources, I'm unable to do anything that could possibly help her wounds. Perhaps when we get out of this damn prison we can find some way to treat them.

I have always disliked mine shafts. Living in Markarth my entire life, I had always considered myself fortunate that my family and I had a house. The miners and smelter workers all lived in The Warrens, and so I found that I should always remember that my family was well-off. I had always tried to avoid mines because they reminded me of the destitute men and women who were forced to mine for silver, simply for the purpose of helping the Silver-Bloods in their insatiable appetite for riches. I had already known that the Silver-Blood family was very prosperous, and so being a young boy, I envied their wealth. Having grown up physically and mentally since then, I no longer envy them. As a matter of fact, I would pity them if I didn't already know that they deserve no mercy. I would pity them because they're so blinded by their own fluke that they have no more compassion for others, especially those who they've wronged personally, including Finch. She's been wrongly accused of a crime that she and everyone else knows that she did not commit because the Silver-Bloods want their own fortification, even if it means that they will be foregoing the guiltless. They would rather attribute a seraph for the crimes than take responsibility for their own actions.

Finch grabs her own robes from where they lie on the ground, caked in dirt. She wipes them off slightly and them pulls them over her head. I sigh quietly, hoping immediately after that she hadn't heard me. Finch turns her head to me, raising an eyebrow in question. "What's wrong?" she asks me obliviously, straightening out her shirt.

I shake my head, blinking. "N-nothing. Nothing's wrong." I respond quickly, crossing my arms. She shrugs, frowning slightly and sniffling.

"I suppose that… I should tell Madanach that Grisvar's dead," she suggests hollowly, sauntering off towards Madanach's cell. I furrow my brow, sitting down on the ground. I'm sure that we'll be getting out of here soon. At least, I hope we do.

I sit down on the ground and cross my arms, waiting for Finch to return. When she does finally, she's walking along with The King in Rags himself, Madanach. The old man puts his hands on his hips.

"Everybody up! Come on, get moving!" he shouts to the other prisoners. They all march out of the tunnels tiredly as if they were sleepy ants. Borkul is at the front of the line, crossing his arms. The Orc approaches Madanach.

"You," he points at Finch accusingly. "You're the one who has killed Grisvar."

"How do you know that?" she questions suspiciously.

"I caught a glimpse of someone stabbing him in the chest while he slept. The killer had breasts, and you're the only one here with them. Not to mention that the killer didn't have any meat on her bones," he smirks at her.

Finch scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest. "Fine, I did kill him, but only to earn Madanach's trust," she argues defensively.

Borkul turns his head to me. "You were with her. Is this true?" he queries, crossing his arms.

I nod. "Yes, Madanach told her that Grisvar is of no use any more." I inform him.

"Correct. My brothers, it is time for us to finally break free from this prison. It is time for us to run our rebellion from outside of this trivial prison and take Markarth back! It's time that the Forsworn take back the land that is rightfully theirs!" Madanach proclaims. "Today is the day that we escape from this prison and take back The Reach! We're going to head through the tunnels of the Ruins of Markarth. There, we will find a door which leads us back to the city and back to our freedom. Borkul, you have the key. Lead us out!"

Borkul the Beat digs around in his pocket until he finds a small, golden key. All of the prisoners, including Finch and I, follow Madanach and Borkul through the door to Madanach's cell. Halfway down the tunnel, on the right, is an iron gate. Borkul pushes the key through the hole, unlocking the door with a loud 'click'. He pushes the rusty door open, causing a noisy creaking sound. Madanach leads us down the tunnel confidently. I walk alongside Finch. Her face is no longer sad, but filled with a glaring hatred that I have never seen her wear before.

"This is his fault. All of this is Madanach's fault," she shakes her head, clenching her fists. I turn my head towards her.

"Not all of it. The murders are his fault, but we're in here because of the Silver-Bloods." I remind her matter-of-factly. Finch's eyes grow dim as they scowl at Madanach.

"I know. No crime in Skyrim is victimless. It's hard to put your finger on who the victim is, though," she tells me, gritting her teeth.

"Everyone's a victim in some fashion." I state. She raises an eyebrow at me.

"What makes you think that?" she asks, gazing down at her blood-stained hands.

"We're victims because we're being charged for a crime we never committed. Madanach is a victim because he's been blinded by bloodlust and has no more benevolence. The Silver-Bloods have been blinded, too, except they've been blinded by their own greed. The citizens of Markarth are victims because they've been lied to, stabbed in the back by their own caretakers. At the same time, though, we are all to blame." I explain to her. Finch looks up at me broodingly, biting her lip. She looks at the ground.

"I suppose you're right. I just… I don't know who I'm supposed to blame except myself. If I'd not have helped Eltrys, he would still be alive, along with his wife. He'd probably abandon the idea of getting to the bottom of the conspiracy and live his life peacefully. He would probably grow old with his wife and live to see his child marry someday and start his own life. But he's dead now. He and his wife and his baby and all of the hope he may have had have been slaughtered. And for what? So that you and I could get locked up in Cidhna Mine solely to keep us quiet about what we've learned? So that we could escape with the man who is behind the conspiracy and the group of killers that Eltrys stood against and died for? It's not worth it at all. None of it is," Finch frowns, shaking her head.

"Eltrys got what he wanted." I remind her. Finch's eyes dart up to mine in doubt, but she says nothing. "He wanted you to get to the bottom of the conspiracy, and that's what you did. He knew that his entire life was in jeopardy, but he knew that he was destined to find out what happened to his father and why nobody would give him any answers. Eltrys didn't die in vain, and none of this is your fault."

"I thought you said that everyone is to blame?" she points out, scowling ahead of us.

"All of the tragedies and wars and deaths and murders take place because of man. Tamriel would be a much different place without people to populate it. Mankind, in general, is to blame for everything because none of us know when to stop killing each other off. You're not to blame for Eltrys' demise, Markarth is." I inform her.

Finch grits her teeth, continuing to walk slightly behind me down the tunnel. All of the sudden, we hear a loud rumbling noise coming from behind us. I snap my head back in alarm, only to find that the ceiling above Finch is the source of the sound. "Watch out!" I exclaim, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards me forcefully. Finch falls backwards, causing me to lose my balance. We both fall to the ground as the ceiling begins to collapse just in front of us. Finch is still recovering from the fall when I stand up hurriedly, grabbing her waist and pulling her backwards. A large boulder crashes exactly in the spot where she was sitting, and Finch's jaw drops open slightly. From what I can tell, the way we just came in through is completely blocked off now. She turns around to face me, her eyes filled with gratitude.

"Thank you…" she acknowledges me, looking down.

"It's my job to protect you." I remind her pragmatically. Before she can respond, the others sprint back to where we are, gawking at us.

Madanach steps forward in shock. "What the _hell_ did you do?" he snarls at us.

"We didn't _do _anything," Finch argues, glowering at him.

"Quite obviously you did! There's no other reason that the ceiling would cave in!" Madanach retorts, crossing his arms. "You two need to keep up! We've already killed two Frostbite Spiders while you two were trailing behind! What are you doing, writing love letters? We don't have time for this nonsense, let's go!"

Finch tightens her fists again, crossing her arms. "We promise we will, Madanach," she mutters crossly as he leads us on.

After a few more minutes of walking, we finally reach the door that leads outside to the city. A woman, about Finch's height, wearing Forsworn armor, greets us all once we arrive. "It's wasn't easy getting all of your stuff," she remarks, crossing her arms. "a few guards had to have their throats slit."

Finch and I both turn around to face Madanach. He hands Finch the armor she was wearing when we were arrested, along with her weapons and gold; Borkul hands me my belongings. "I had Kaie recover all of your belongings that the Nords stole from you," Madanach tells both of us, crossing his arms. "And take these," he insists, handing us both Forsworn armor. "they're blessed with the old magicks. Something to remember me by."

Finch stares down at the armor she is holding. She doesn't honestly believe that the man is trying to make peace with her, does she? Although, I suppose it's probably the most he's ever given a Nord.

"I'd sooner forget all of this," she admits, not bothering to meet his gaze.

"It's time to see the sky. And make it rain red," he smirks at her.

Finch grins at him as the others exit through the door shutting it behind them. "Thank you for everything, Madanach. I would never have been able to escape without your help."

"Oh, my dear, it was no problem, really," he replies nonchalantly.

What is she talking about? Did she not absolutely loathe the so-called, "King in Rags," a few minutes ago? Why is she acting like this now, then?

The Nord extends her arms for a hug, smiling warmly at him. He crosses his arms. "I'm not a hugger, so don't even try it," he informs her.

She puckers out her lower lip, refusing to put her arms down. "Madanach, I'm most likely not going to see you again."

He rolls his eyes. "I've never hugged anybody in my life, and I don't intend on doing so now."

Finch raises her eyebrows at him, keeping her arms up. Madanach groans. "Fine, but you're not to tell anybody, less you want a Forsworn Agent to send a sword through your skull," he warns her, putting his arms around her. She pats him on the back.

"Easy to conceal," Finch tells him, her smile turning into a glower.

Madanach raises his eyebrow, loosening his grip on her. "Huh?" he asks, confused as I am.

Finch hits him in the back hard, and his face contorts into pain. I raise an eyebrow, bemused. My perplexity dissipates when he falls to his knees with a shiv stuck in his back. He gazes up at her in astonishment as she kneels down, pulling the shiv from his back. "Do you know who Eltrys was?" she asks, gritting her teeth. Madanach groans in pain, putting his hands on his wound. "I bet you don't, do you? He was going to be a father; he had a bright future ahead of him. I bet Margaret did, too. And Rhiada, his wife. And their unborn child. They're all dead because of you, and you don't even know their _fucking _names!" she cries, shoving him to the ground. She kneels over him, holding the shiv over his head tauntingly. Madanach tries to push her away, but she grabs his wrist and slams his hands to the ground. He moans in pain, grimacing.

Finch scowls at him, holding the shiv to his throat. "You'll never see the sun again, you hear me? No one escapes Cidhna Mine," she spits, cutting a gash in his throat. "No one."

After a few seconds, Madanach finally bleeds out, his body going limp. Finch bitterly drives the knife into his chest, letting go of it. She stands up, taking another look at the man. She turns away, wiping the blood off of her hands and onto her robes. Finch pulls sits down and pulls her ragged boots off, then her robes. She wipes the rest of the blood on her hands onto the robes, throwing on the ground starkly. She grabs her hide armor from where it lies on the ground, pulling it on and leaving the Forsworn armor that Madanach gave her on the floor. The Nord grabs her bow and arrows, pulling the quiver onto her shoulder and the bow on her back. Lastly, she grabs her money, stuffing it into her pockets. "Put your armor on," she orders me in a void tone. "we're leaving."

I nod quickly, still trying to process what has just happened. Madanach is dead, the others still think Finch is on their side, Finch is planning on going back out there… "What are you going to tell the others?" I ask her apprehensively.

"That Madanach went to check and make sure that all of the Frostbite Spiders were dead. It should stall them long enough for us to get out of Markarth and far enough away so that we don't end up with arrows in our heads," she explains flatly.

I pull my tunic and pants off, leaving me in only my undergarments. I pull my armor on as well, grabbing my sword and Septims. Once we're both ready, we head outside, ready to face everybody. We open the door slowly, where all of the Forsworn and Markarth guards are awaiting Madanach to come out. The woman who retrieved our armor speaks up. "Where is Madanach?"

"He thought he saw another Frostbite Spider. He went back to check and make sure that it was safe," Finch lies to all of them.

"Oh, really?" Thonar speaks up, stepping forward out of the crowd. "Because one of my guards on the inside of the mine heard of your little plan to escape, so I sent him to follow you. He says that you, Finch Vosskron, have slain Madanach." The Forsworn all stare in disbelief at her, drawing their weapons. "Oh, but don't fret. I find it quite heroic that you have done such a thing. You have done Markarth a great favor. As a matter of fact, I wish to grant you a full pardon from your crimes, along with a personal token of my gratitude," he tells her, pulling something out from his shirt pocket. He grabs her hand, dropping something into it and closing it. Finch opens her hand to find a plain, burnished silver ring. She scowls at it.

"Do you honestly think that you can make up for everything that you've done to me- to everybody in Markarth- by giving me a ring?" she spits, furrowing her brow.

"That ring is a Silver-Blood family ring. You have proven yourself worthy of-" he tries to explain before Finch cuts him off.

"It's just a goddamn ring! It's a goddamn silver ring that you made from the silver that the prisoners in Cidhna Mine have mined for you! You must think that you can simply be exonerated for the countless times that you've wronged others if you repay them with riches. Your entire family, every single person in _Markarth _was accusing me of murdering my friend, Eltrys, and countless others; but every single one of you knew that I was innocent! The guards killed Eltrys, but you still threw Vorstag and I into jail to cover up your own tracks! All of you Silver-Bloods are nothing more than power-hungry, covetous bastards who are so proud of themselves that they care about nothing more than their own well-being! And you know what?" she shouts, waving the ring in his face. Finch shoves Thonar out of the way forcefully, walking past The Hall of the Dead. We all follow her where she turns left so that she is right next to the waterfall. Before Thonar Silver-Blood can object, Finch drops the ring down the waterfall.

Thonar gasps. "Miss Vosskron, that ring is only given to those who have aided the Silver-Blood family-" he argues.

"Maybe before you give out rings to those who you believe have 'aided you in' whatever the hell you do here, you should pay alms to the malnourished miners who work their asses off for the sole purpose of bringing you your goddamn silver!" she cuts him off. She turns to the Forsworn people. "And you all- running around, trying to take back the 'land that is rightfully yours', have no idea how naïve you all are! You worshipped a man who couldn't even defend himself from an undernourished young adult who slit his throat! Not a single one of you realize how silly it is to fight with the Nords over a chunk of land that is nothing more than a city carved into a rock! In case you have not yet noticed, not all Nords are, 'too proud of themselves,' or 'materialistic'! I can count on my fingers many Nords that I have known that show more courage than any of you Forsworn ever will! If you ask me, I think that every single one of you is just racially prejudice! So fine, be cowards if you choose. I don't care- this isn't my city. Markarth is owned by the Silver-Blood family, because money is power."

Kaie glares daggers at Finch, gritting her teeth and stomping over to her. "Who are you to judge us, Nord? All you're useful for is looking pretty and flirting with your boyfriend! You don't know anything about the Forsworn or our cause, because you're just some stupid girl who doesn't know what it's like to have her home stolen from beneath her feet!" Kaie yells, shoving Finch. Finch's eyes darken, and I think back to last night when it seemed as if her eyes were actually aflame.

"You don't know _anything _about me!" Finch shrieks, shoving her back.

Kaie swings at Finch's jaw, but she dodges the blow by ducking. Finch elbows the woman in the stomach. Kaie nearly doubles over in pain, but manages to stay on her feet. She shoves Finch, hard, and the impact causes them both to lose their balance. Finch and Kaie both tumble backwards and nearly fall off of the walkway they were fighting on. At the last second, they grab onto the edge and end up dangling. Kaie manages to pull herself up, but Finch's efforts to do so are in vain as she hangs helplessly. Once Kaie regains her balance, she saunters back over to Finch. As she tries to push her down, to let her fall, I stomp over to them. Kaie turns to me. "Oh, does the boyfriend want to step in and protect her?" Kaie asks mockingly. I grab her by the throat, pulling her away from Finch and towards the edge again.

"Don't you dare touch her." I warn Kaie, threatening to drop her off of the walkway. Kaie claws at my hands, trying to push me away. I tighten my grip on her neck, pushing her closer to the edge.

"Go ahead. Killing me won't make your girlfriend any smarter. You're both nothing but fools and cowards. May Sithis have mercy upon you," she spits at us. I glare at her, loosening my grip. Kaie falls to the ground, gasping for air.

"You're not worth it," I tell her, pulling Finch up. Finch glares daggers at the woman, clenching her fists. Before I can stop either of them, Finch grabs the collar of Kaie's shirt, lifting her up to her feet. Kaie shoves Finch once more, this time causing both of them to fall off of the walkway and down the waterfall. "Finch!" I exclaim, running across the walkway and down the stairs towards the river. I see them both in the water, and I immediately jump in after Finch. I pull her onto land while Kaie floats away limply.

I kneel down to Finch as she gasps for air, sitting up. "Are you all right?" I ask her worriedly.

She nods, flabbergasted. Finch glances at Kaie. "I'm all right, but Kaie isn't. She was closer to the rocks when we fell down and… and I think she broke her neck on the way down."

I bite my lip as Thonar and the other Forsworn walk down the stairs. Thonar speaks up once more. "Are you all right, Miss Vosskron?" he queries, kneeling down.

Finch stares at him in disgust. "Don't act like you care a smidge about me when you don't," she advises him, backing away.

"But I do care-" he tries to convince her.

"Oh, really? Last time I checked, you didn't exactly step in when I was fighting with Kaie!" she points out.

"Well, it seemed that your boyfriend had everything under control…" he explains, crossing his arms.

"He's not my boyfriend, and that's not the point! If a friend of yours is in danger, you help them despite what the consequences may be for you! You're not my friend, nor will you ever be," she retorts coldly, standing up. With that, Finch and I walk away towards the door to Skyrim.

A/N: Ouch, that must have hurt Thonar's feelings a bit. I hope I didn't upset you if you're a fan of Kaie or Madanach or et cetera, but I hope you enjoyed. Please review to tell me your opinion so I can improve my story!


	5. Nightshade

A/N: Okay, sooo… here's the next chapter. This one is a bit shorter than the last, though. This chapter is rated M for… well, innuendo, I suppose. And awkwardness. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; please review! I would really appreciate it, because I know that the story is smut and needs a LOT of refining :/

CH. 5

Finch P.O.V.

"What do you think will happen with the Forsworn now that Madanach is dead?" Vorstag asks me as we walk through the meadow.

I shrug. Frankly, I have no idea what will happen with anybody back in Markarth. "They all seemed a bit perplexed the whole time. Perhaps they'll head back to one of their Forsworn camping areas and elect a new leader for their people." I respond to him.

He nods. "Maybe… It was odd, seeing you go off at Thonar and the Forsworn like that," he admits.

"Why is that?" I ask, stopping for a moment so that I can face him.

The mercenary shrugs. "I don't know- it's just… I've never seen you act that way towards anybody, really," he explains.

I usually don't snap at people like that. I only do so when I'm in serious distress, though I suppose that I've never done it in front of Vorstag. "It's not very common that I do, but Thonar needed to be confronted for once." I snort, rolling my eyes. "He calls me a hero days after he says he'll see me rot in Cidhna Mine."

He nods slightly, sitting down in the light green grass. I take a seat next to him, the sun relentlessly beaming down on both of us. He tries to change the topic. "You ran away from home when you were younger? Did you have any siblings?"

I nod. "A sister. Her name is- I mean… her name _was _Ysana. She was a year younger than I. She had blonde hair and emerald-green eyes like our mother. She always just… beamed with happiness and radiated life. On the last day I saw her, she gave me a rose…" I tell him, reaching into my left pocket and pulling it out. "It's preserved in some type of magical concoction that disables it from wilting." I hand him the pink flower. Vorstag observes it carefully.

"Pink roses are a symbol of love," he informs me, delicately placing the flower back into my hand. I smile warmly at the rose.

"I know. I wanted to keep it to remember her." I explain, placing the rose in my pocket once again. I sigh, putting my head in my hands. "I've never told anyone that before."

Vorstag exhales through his nose. "I'm sorry about her. You have a new life now, though," he says to me, giving me a half-smile.

I nod slightly. "I suppose I do. It's not off to such a great start, though." I respond, rubbing the back of my neck.

He shrugs. "I'm sure it'll get better. Plus, you have me to help you out, now," he points out. I grin, staring at the ground. I pull a blade of grass from the ground, examining it closely.

"I suppose so. It's good to have a friend." I tell him, smiling. "You saved me back when we were escaping. That boulder would have crushed me to death before you even knew that it hit me."

Vorstag shrugs modestly. "Friends are supposed to protect each other," he states. I grin, combing through my hair with my fingers.

"Right." I agree with him.

"Speaking of taking care of each other, how does your nose feel?" he asks, scooting towards me.

I shrug, slouching forward and staring off into the distance at the blue skies. "It's not as swollen as it was yesterday, fortunately.

He nods, staring at my face. "I can tell. You look much better. Of course, you always look magnificent."

I feel my cheeks burn, and I turn my head so that he cannot see me. "Th-thank you." I stutter, biting my lip.

I can sense his grinning as he scoots even closer to me, putting a hand on my chin and turning my head towards him. He leans forward. "That's a compliment, you know. You don't have to be embarrassed about it," he grins at me.

I push a strand of hair out of my face. "I know, but… why do you like me?" I ask him, twirling the grass around my finger.

"Because you're a good person, Finch," he answers.

I shake my head. "No, I mean… why- how do you find me… attractive?" I specify.

Vorstag raises an eyebrow at me. "Have you never seen your own reflection? You're absolutely gorgeous!" he exclaims.

I scoff. "If you find frail, undernourished, short women pretty then, yes, I suppose I am." I respond sarcastically.

"You're not at all frail. And some men find short women to be enticing," he informs me.

"Why would anybody think that it's appealing to be small?" I ask.

"Some men don't wish to look feeble when they stand next to their romantic interests," he points out.

"I suppose so, but it doesn't make a short woman attractive. It simply makes her more desirable for completely different reasons." I laugh, shaking my head.

"That doesn't mean that they can't also be beautiful," he states. "Although, let's be honest, I would lust over you even if you were a mammoth's size. You should stop undermining yourself, Finch."

Vorstag fixes his gaze upon me, biting his lip. He's been so kind to me over the past couple of days. I wonder if he is always this friendly, or if he's acting this way because of the fact that he has a crush on me. Without thinking, I lean forward, harshly crashing my lips into his. After the shock in his eyes dissipates, he closes them, kissing me back passionately. I moan quietly as he puts a hand on my shoulder, planting a hot kiss on my neck. I crawl closer to him, and then I straddle his hips. Vorstag gently places his hands on my waist and leans up to bring his lips back to mine. My fingers weave through his hair as I continue to lock lips with him, closing my eyes. I feel him start to grow hard against the inside of my thigh, and my eyes snap open as I lean back.

"I'm so sorry." I apologize, letting go of him.

"There's absolutely nothing to apologize for," he states, breathless.

"No, I mean… I'm so sorry that I can't do this." I tell him, hastily standing up.

Vorstag furrows his brow, getting to his feet. "Why can't you?" he asks me, raising an eyebrow.

"I just… can't." I answer crossing my arms. What was I thinking? I can't get involved with Vorstag! I've more important things to worry about than… what? My _love _life? It's silly to even think of such trivial things such as romance. What was I thinking? Well, obviously I wasn't thinking.

Vorstag sighs, nodding. "So you don't want to? Is that what you're saying?" he crosses his arms.

"No, I mean that… it's complicated." I inform him.

"I don't understand what's so 'complicated' about an innocent kiss," he tells me.

"There's nothing complicated about an innocent kiss." I respond, scowling. "But _that _was more than innocent, and I know that you're quite aware of that."

Vorstag rolls his eyes. "You know very well that I wouldn't take advantage of you. If you'd wanted to stop, all you would have to do is say so and we would," he reminds me.

I'm silent for a moment. "Yes, but…" I start, staring at the ground. What if I didn't tell him no? What if we kept going and… and we didn't stop? What if I made a big mistake and ended up with a child? I can't do something like that. Even if I do ever have children, it's much too early. How can I bring a child into this world when, in fact, I've barely managed to take care of myself? It's selfish to do such a thing; not to mention the fact that I barely know Vorstag.

"But what?" he asks. After a short moment, his frown disappears and a look of realization dawns upon his face. "You don't want to stop, do you?"

"I never said that!" I snap defensively, sitting up.

"You're not denying it, though, are you?" he points out, smiling. My face floods red as I glare at him. I stand up, turning away. How could he be so… ignorant? Doesn't he understand that I've absolutely no time for this nonsense? The day that I need a boyfriend will be the day that I befriend a troll!

"Just… shut up!" I bark, beginning to walk away. Vorstag quickly catches up with me.

"You don't want to stop. Why did you?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrow.

I don't answer him, just roll my eyes and continue stomping forward. Vorstag finally stops me, putting a hand on my shoulder. I whip around, grabbing my dagger from my belt and waving it in front of his nose. "What? What could you possibly want from me?" I inquire, scowling.

"I want to know why you stopped yourself," he replies, gingerly putting his hand on my wrist and forcing me to lower the knife.

"What makes you think I won't kill you?" I bite, stepping towards the mercenary. Why is he doing this? Is it to test me or something? What does he take me for, a fool?

"I know that you won't kill me because you have no reason to, besides getting me to shut up. Now, stop changing the topic…" he tells me. Vorstag pries my fingers from the handle of the dagger, forcing me to drop it. He kicks the dagger away. "And answer me."

What am I supposed to tell him? It's absolutely none of his business, any way! "Because it's a stupid idea, getting romantically involved. That's why!" I bark, still not telling him the complete truth.

"Finch, if I'm going to be your hireling, you have to tell me the truth. Why do you believe that it's a stupid idea?" he urges me on.

I clench my fists, unsure of what to do. What the hell does he want from me? I struggle my wrists out of his grasp, stepping back from him. "It just is. I just… I can't afford to make any mistakes, okay? There are a _lot _of people who want me dead, and I really don't need any more pressure on my shoulders! There, are you happy?!" I bark, running my fingers through my hair. I suppose that it's true. I've already been bent so far, and I can't break. Not now, when I'm sure that I'm being followed by the Imperials. And what if Vorstag is one of them? What if one day he pulls a dagger on me and I'm not prepared for it? I'll be dead before I've even comprehended what happened! Maybe all of this is just a scheme and he's already planning to stab me in the back? I shake my head, shutting my eyes. He can't be an Imperial spy- he's not. I just need some sleep.

"Finch, are you feeling okay?" he asks me, concerned. Vorstag steps forward, placing the back of his hand on my forehead. After a second, he quickly pulls his hand away. "You're scorching hot, Finch! Are you all right?"

I blink slowly, shrugging. I step back, only to trip and fall backwards. I furrow my brow, searching for the object I tripped over. I find it within seconds. It's my dagger. I sigh, picking it up and strapping it back onto my belt. I lie my head down on the grass, my vision blurred. What's wrong with me? Why is this happening? I lay on my back, only to yelp at a stinging sensation in my thigh. I quickly lift my leg up and find a small dart stuck in my thigh. I pull it out, perplexed. I examine it carefully, my attention focused on the tip. There's a drop of my blood on it, along with some type of purple liquid. I use my finger to wipe some of the stuff off and look closer. Undoubtedly, it's some type of Nightshade extract. I stare at Vorstag, whose expression mirrors my own confusion. Before I can open my mouth to speak, I feel another sharp pain, this time in my neck. I yelp in pain again, pulling the thing out.

If it's not Vorstag, who is it? I hear a twig snap behind Vorstag, and I grab my bow. I turn towards the sound, but we find that nobody is there. "Did you hear that?" I ask him, raising an eyebrow.

"Hear what?" he inquires, puzzled. How did he not hear it? The sound was bright as day. I shrug, figuring it must have been an animal, but I see yet another dart head towards Vorstag. I shriek, causing him to step forward in worry, and he barely dodges the needle. I begin to sweat badly, even though it's fairly cold outside. I would pant, but my throat has grown too dry. "W-we need to g-go!" I exclaim breathily, grabbing his hand and pulling him forward.

"Are you oka-" he starts, but I shake my head as I start running with him through the forest.

"It's… Nightshade." I slur, my head pounding from the beaming sun. "We need... to run…"

"Is that stuff poisonous? Are you going to be all right?" he asks, worried.

"Yes and… I don't know. But we need to hide somewhere. Before they get you, too." I urge him on. I let go of his hand, only to find that he was the only thing supporting me. My legs give out just as I let him go, causing me to trip and fall onto my stomach. He quickly realizes that I've fallen over, so he turns around and grabs my hand to pull me up. My eyelids start to get heavy as I swat his hand away.

"Stop it. Just… keep going. I'll… catch up with you." I tell him sleepily, shutting my eyes and resting my head on the grass.

"I'm not leaving you behind! Come on!" he shouts, trying to grab my hand.

"I'll be… fine. Keep going." I insist, pulling my hand away and resting on the ground. He continues to urge me on, his voice now too distorted to make out his words. Finally, he is silent and lets out a groan. At first I believe that he's given up and left, but I'm taken by surprise when he picks me up off of the ground. My eyes snap open, only to find that I'm being carried over his shoulder. I can see everything behind us as he runs rapidly, the sky turning pink like it always does at sunset. The afternoon hasn't ended, though. And the sun is still in the sky.

My head is foggy as I stare down at the ground. The grass in this area is so bright that it's almost an eyesore. I don't remember it being like this before, though. Have I been seeing things that aren't truly there? It would explain a lot. I cough dryly. I hope that there's water somewhere, else I may become dehydrated soon enough. I know that I should be more alert at this point, since we're being tracked, but this has all been so tiring… Perhaps I should just go to sleep…

Vorstag P.O.V.

"Finch, wake up." I say softly, tapping her on the shoulder. Her tired eyes flutter open slowly, her face flushed badly.

"W-what happened?" she asks, blinking and sitting up so that she can support her weight on her forearms. "Where are we?"

"In Rorikstead." I inform her. "You've been asleep for quite a while."

Finch bites her lip. "You carried me here? But-but Rorikstead is at _least _an hour from where we were…" she explains.

"Don't worry about it. Carrying you is absolutely no problem. Now, if you were a Horker…" I start, exhaling.

She smiles slightly, sitting up. "I know a man in the Thieves' Guild, a Nord named Vipir the Fleet. When I asked him how he earned his name, he told me the story of how he and another thief, Vex, were doing some type of job in Windhelm. Their client called for the authorities, though, so they had to make a run for it. The two of them both ran and Vex, being the stealthy one she is, quickly hid and escaped the guards. Vipir was not as fortunate, though. He had to run out the main gates of Windhelm and all the way back to Riften."

I raise my eyebrows in surprise. "Riften? How did he manage to run so far?" I question in disbelief.

She shrugs, laughing. "That's exactly what I asked him. He said that he was filled with so much energy and fear from being pursued by the guards that it just gave him the willpower to make the run. Once he arrived back at Riften, he went down to The Thieves' Guild hideout. When he was there, the entire Guild burst out laughing at him when they saw him standing there, panting and sweating. Vex had made it back already. Apparently Vipir had forgotten that he and Vex had their horses just outside of Windhelm. Vex took her horse back, but Vipir ran the whole way," she finishes, a look of astonishment and wonder in her eyes.

I shake my head, laughing. "He must be pretty damn fast." I state, crossing my arms.

Finch nods, grinning. "I've seen him run once before. He's definitely brisk. I'm amazed that he can still run, though. If I ran as long as he did, I wouldn't be surprised if my legs gave out once I stepped into Riften."

I nod, still mesmerized by the story. Finch has met some interesting people throughout her life, undoubtedly. I wonder if she hears stories like these every day. I'm sure she does. It seems that she's never in one place for too long.

"Are you feeling any better?" I ask, putting the back of my hand to her forehead. Finch nods.

"Well, I'm not delirious any more. I suppose that's a good sign," she points out lightheartedly. Before I can respond, she cuts me off. "Listen, Vorstag, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. About how it was all a big waste of time. I know that you have a crush on me…" she continues on. I tune out, concentrating on her eyes. They're so full of brightness, childhood wonder. As she rambles on about something, I think back to her last sentence, about how I have a crush on her. I've been starting to question it, actually. I'm not saying at all that I'm not attracted to Finch any more. Actually, I've been questioning just _how_ much I fancy her. You don't risk your life for someone that you don't care about, that's true. But… could it be true that I have much deeper feelings for the Nord? Perhaps it's love that I'm feeling. The way my parents looked at each other… that was love. Could this be it?

"You're not listening, are you?" she asks, interrupting my thoughts. I gaze into her alert, sapphire-blue eyes that flicker with such youth. If I could, I would kiss her right now. Maybe she would kiss me back, too. Maybe her kiss would be so passionate that I was certain that she loved me back just as much as I love her. Maybe she would forget about what she had said before and decide that it was okay if she loved me because I have no intention of causing her any harm. But I can't kiss her right now, because that's not what she wants. She doesn't want a romance with someone half-witted mercenary who's been borrowing money from his best friend for the past few years. She doesn't want me because I'm not some valiant thief who can run from Windhelm to Riften, and I'm absolutely nothing like she is.

"Do you want to hear the truth?" I inquire jokingly, giving her a sheepish smile.

"That's what I thought," she responds, smiling back at me. I stare at her hands that are tracing circles on the pillow of the bed she's laying down on. "Are we at the inn?"

I nod, sitting up. "That's right, in Rorikstead." I inform her.

"Oh, okay. Rorikstead…" she echoes. The last hint of a smile she has on her face vanishes as her eyes widen a bit and she grips onto the frame of the bed until her knuckles turn white. "Rorikstead… Vorstag, I-I want to go. Can we leave? Please? I just- I really need to go. Now." Finch, much too quickly, stands up. She trips over me when she heads for the door, landing on top of me. She quickly scoots away, clenching her hair in her fists.

"Finch, what's wrong?" I ask her calmly, standing up and approaching her slowly. Finch glares at the floor, standing up once again. I suddenly remember her telling me about how the town she used to live in was just up the road from Rorikstead. It's completely gone now, though. Her family is quite obviously a sore subject. It's no wonder why she doesn't want to be here.

"Finch, it's very late, I don't know that it's such a good idea to leave at this hour." I state reluctantly. I don't want to seem selfish, but it's too dangerous to leave right now.

She shuts her eyes, nodding, even though she has a look on her face as if she's arguing with herself. "I- okay, all right. You're right; it's too risky to go out now. Maybe we should just go to sleep, leave at sunrise…" she frowns, twiddling her thumbs.

I sigh, rubbing my forehead with one hand with my other on my hip. "Finch, I know that you don't want to be around this area at all, but-" I start, feeling guilty.

Finch shakes her head, crossing her arms. "No, you're right. It would be foolish to go out so late unless I wanted to end up as werewolf fodder. I just… need some more sleep. I nod.

After a long argument over who should take the bed, I continued to insist that she take it until she finally gave in, bidding me a good night. After a long while, all was silent and I assumed that she had finally managed to nod off, so I finally went to sleep, as well. It must have been merely an hour later when I am awaken again by Finch stirring in her bed as I lay on the floor. I yawn, stretching my arms and sitting up. The darkness makes it difficult to see anything, but my eyes adjust to the obscure room just enough to make out the outline of her body, sitting up in bed and staring at the foot of the bed.

"Are you awake, Finch?" I whisper just loud enough so she can hear me, even though I know the answer. She jumps, startled by me. She must not have known that I was awake.

Finch gives me a small nod, exhaling through her nose and then sniffling. She turns her head away from me slightly so that I cannot see her. I know from the fact that she isn't talking to me and is avoiding my gaze that she's trying to hide something. I stand up, sitting down on the very edge of the bed. "Is something wrong?" I ask softly, scooting towards her. Finch lowers her head.

"No, I'm just all right," she tries to convince me, but her voice catches at the end of her sentence. I turn my head to her as a signal that I know that she's lying. Finch sniffles again, crossing her arms and turning her head towards me. The little moonlight in the room comes from the cracks in the wall, and the light is just enough to see the tears streaming down her face. I frown at her for a second, extending my arms out to her. She hastily leans forward, holding me tightly as I hold her. Finch buries her face into my bare chest and chokes on her own tears. She sobs quietly while I hold her close, pitying the poor, damaged girl. Is the thought of being here what is preventing her from sleeping? It must be.

After a few minutes of her crying, Finch finally lets go of me. I frown at her once more. "How about you try to get some sleep?" I ask her sympathetically, standing up.

"Wait, don't go yet," she interrupts me, grabbing my hand. I might light up by her sudden affection if I knew that it was actually sincere.

I sigh. "You need to get some sleep." I inform her, turning around.

"I know," she says. "I just… can you sleep with me? I mean- not in that way. Just…"

"Cuddling?" I ask. Finch wrinkles her nose.

"I hate that word. But, yes, I… suppose you can call it that," she nods, pursing her lips.

I smile at her, sitting back down. "Okay." I tell her, lying down beside her. Without hesitation, Finch rolls onto her side towards me and places her hand on my chest, nestling her head into my shoulder. I put my arm around her, smiling. Why is it that there is never a time when both of us are truly at peace? Right now, Finch is in absolute distress, but somehow I am able to remain calm because I'm with her. Maybe someday there will be a time when we can both be happy, maybe even content with our lives. After some time, Finch falls asleep. I'm happy that she'll at least be getting a bit of rest; we're definitely not going to be staying here for another day.

I finally fall asleep not long after she does. Why is it that, even after all the good that she has done for Skyrim, Finch's life is still nothing but cruel to her? She deserves so much more than that. She deserves to be happy. I don't know how I'm going to manage it, but I know that somehow, I'll find a way to make her happy.


	6. Envy

A/N: I'm uploading this a day early because I'm going to Reno tomorrow, and since I'm staying in a hotel, I might not have internet access. If I do, then... oh well, no big deal. Anyway, here is chapter 6 which is rated M for violence, awkwardness, innuendo, snobbiness, strong language, self-loathing...

CH. 6

Finch P.O.V.

I awaken next to Vorstag just as the sun rises outside. We are both facing the wall, and I turn around to face him. He's still sleeping peacefully, his expression very calm. I smile slightly when I see him so content. I realize my hand has found its way to his, and my fingers are interlocked with his. Being careful not to wake him, I slowly pull my hand away and sit up. I yawn quietly, rubbing my eyes. Gingerly, I climb over him and try my best to be quiet. Once I'm out of bed, I breathe a sigh of relief once I see that he's still asleep. I realize that the bard man outside by the bar is singing, so I decide to go out there.

The bard man looks so much like Sven from Riverwood that it's uncanny. He seems to be a bit younger, though, probably a couple of years behind me. The man smiles at me, his blue eyes dancing in the light of the fire. "Good morning, Miss," he tells me, nodding. I smile back at him, sitting down at a bench by the fire. I realize that the two of us are the only ones in the room, so I speak up.

"Where is everybody?" I ask, slouching forward in my seat. The bard shrugs, his blonde hair glistening in the light.

"They're all asleep, I suppose," he states. "I'm an early riser, though. Are you?"

I nod, not bothering to tell him that I didn't get much sleep in the first place. "Yes. You've got to be ready to go at all times when you're an explorer."

He perks his head up at my words, raising his eyebrows. "An explorer? That sounds fun."

I smile slightly. "I suppose so. It's much easier to have fun when there's not the looming threat of a dragon attack, though." I inform him, sighing. I warm my hands in front of the fire.

The man stares at me in awe and approaches, setting his loot down on a side table. He takes a seat next to me. "You've seen a dragon before? And you've lived to tell the tale?" he asks, furrowing his brow.

I nod at him once again. "Actually, I've… seen quite a few of them." I inform him, crossing my arms.

"Really? What's your name?" he asks attentively, pursing his lips.

"Finch Vosskron." I tell him. The bard gasps, his eyes wide.

"You- you're the Dragonborn! You're the dragon slayer, aren't you?!" he inquires excitedly. The childlike quality about him is more refreshing than it is silly, really. Most people nowadays are just so… grave, I suppose. Of course, it's absolutely hypocritical for me to be saying so.

"Yes, actually." I tell him, grinning at his eagerness. "What's your name?"

"Oh, well, I'm Sebastian. It's so good to meet you, Miss Vosskron. Really, you are such an inspiration…" he trails off, shaking his head.

I chuckle slightly, amused by his excitement. "Well… thank you, Sebastian. Really." I thank him, sitting up. "You can call me Finch, though. I'm really not one for being formal."

Sebastian smiles at me. "Okay, Finch," he says, a gleam in his eye. "I just… I find it so inspirational, what you've done for everybody, for this entire world. I just… I wish that somehow I could repay you for all that you've done."

"Oh." I say, shaking my head profusely. "No, honey, you don't have to pay me anything. It's not necessary, really."

"Oh, but it feels wrong not to do something to repay you for the services you have done for Tamriel! Please, at least accept a _few _Septims…" he insists, digging into his pocket.

I grab his arm lightly, and his gaze meets mine. "Don't, I don't need anything. Trust me; money really hasn't gotten me anywhere, anyway." I inform him, pulling his hand out of his pocket. I let go of his arm and he sighs thoughtfully.

"Isn't there something I can do? Anything? I really want to offer you something- as a gift for your valiance," he asks, biting his lip.

I sigh, not wanting to accept nor reject his offer. It's wrong to take anything from a man whose only income is tips from an inn that has few visitors as it is, but… at the same time, he genuinely wants to give me some sort of gift. It doesn't seem right to reject his wish, either. In fact, it seems almost as cruel as rejecting the final wish of a dying man. Finally, I decide to accept his offer. I glance over at the lute on the table and then back to Sebastian.

"All right, fine." I accept his offer. "If you really want to give me a gift, then… teach me a song."

"A song?" he echoes. I nod.

"You are a bard, aren't you?" I ask, cocking my head. He nods, sitting up.

"Yes, of course I am. I just… is that all you want?" he asks in an almost disappointed-sounding voice. I nod once more.

"Absolutely. I've always thought that songs held more meaning behind them than coin, anyway." I state, smiling.

Sebastian sighs, smiling. "All right, I will. I hope you're a fast learner, though."

I grin. "I am, don't worry. So… what song are you going to teach me?" I ask him, standing up with him. He walks over to his lute, picking it up off the table.

"Actually, I've been writing one myself. I think that an adventurer like you is likely to appreciate it," he assures me.

Vorstag P.O.V.

What is that noise? I open one eye and suddenly remember that Finch and I are at the inn in Rorikstead. I open the other eye and sit up, turning my head over to my side and finding that Finch isn't here. The noise I hear must have waken me up, but it's not just any noise. It's music. The music is lovely, actually, a lute accompanied by a feminine singing. The harmony is unfamiliar to me, though. Finch must have woken up already; she's most likely out at the bar. I'm glad she got some sleep, though. She needs it.

I stretch my arms out, yawning and getting out of bed. I realize that I'm still in just my trousers, so I walk over to the corner of the room where I have set down my gear and grab my shirt. I pull it over my head, still listening to the pleasant voice from outside the door. I yawn once more, pulling on my boots one at a time. Finally, I pivot on my heel to face the door and exit the room. I pay no attention to the bards and looks around the room for Finch. She's nowhere to be seen.

I cross my arms, glancing over to the two musicians in hopes that maybe they've seen Finch. Instead, I find that only one of them is a bard. A young-looking man is the one playing the lute, while Finch seems to be the source of the melody. I stop in my tracks, suddenly overcome with many questions. Why is Finch singing? Does she know this man? Since when does Finch have such a pleasant voice, and why didn't she tell me? What the hell song is this? The two of them must not have heard me enter; they don't even do so much as glance my way. The tune from the lute is nice, but somehow it seems sorrowful. They continue their song, and I just now decide to listen to the lyrics.

"So walk down by the river, the water's stories are from long ago..." Finch vocalizes, her eyes seeming very deep in thought. "Some of them are serene, but the others quite mean; with treasure comes great woe…" She continues her singing as the bard plays his lute, smiling at her. A sudden pang of emotion hits me, causing me to clench my fists tightly. I clear my throat loudly.

Finch's eyes go wide and she flinches, startled. After they both stop abruptly, Finch turns bright red and crosses her arms. "Vorstag, h-hello, um… Did you hear all of that?" she stutters, pursing her lips.

"Oh, is this your husband?" the bard asks unwittingly.

Finch shakes her head vigorously. "No, um… this is Vorstag. He's a mercenary."

I nod. "Yeah, I am." I confirm and cross my arms. "Who are you?"

"I'm Sebastian," he smiles, offering me his hand. I cross my arms, so he purses his lips and pulls his hand away, putting his arms behind his back. "It's… good to meet you."

I roll my eyes, turning my attention towards Finch. "Your voice is absolutely delightful." I smile at her.

Finch gives me a half-smile, staring at the floor. "Oh… thank you, Vorstag," she thanks me, biting her cheek. "Sebastian was teaching me a song he wrote."

"It's not a love song, is it?" I ask, putting my hands on my hips.

Finch laughs uncomfortably while Sebastian steps back, shaking his head. Sebastian frowns, his eyes wider than before. "N-no, I swear it's not. I mean- heh… that's silly. Because you seem to be quite fond of Finch, and… well, we wouldn't want either of us to get hurt, or…" he trails off, stepping back once more.

"Or killed?" I raise an eyebrow, stepping forward. Sebastian gulps, stepping back. I could easily kill him if I wished to- he's about Finch's size, which is typical for bards- not a single one has ever picked up a sword in their lives. I smile slightly, feeling superior. "Well, Finch and I have to get going. Have fun playing your lute for tips. If you work hard today, maybe you'll be able to afford two glasses of milk instead of one."

Sebastian nods curtly, looking away as Finch and I head back to our room to grab our remaining gear. Finch stomps past me to the room, hastily snatching her weapons from the side table. I close the door behind us and grab my sword from the corner of the room, glancing over at Finch's scowling face.

"Is something wrong?" I inquire, sitting down on the bed.

Finch snorts, still glaring at nothing. "Where would you like me to start?" she snaps, putting a dagger in her boot. "You made an absolute ass of yourself! What is your problem?"

"What is _your _problem? I was just having a conversation." I tell her innocently, shrugging.

She clenches her fists, standing up and stomping towards me. "Having a conversation? You were being a FUCKING SNOB is what you were doing! You had ABSOLUTELY no right to patronize Sebastian like that! Again, what the HELL is your GOD DAMN PROBLEM?!" she yells, pulling the knife back out from her boot and waving it in front of my face.

"I wasn't being a snob at all! He was just getting on my nerves!" I retort, scooting back.

"You're ENVIOUS of him, aren't you? Well, guess what? I am NOT your girlfriend. You have no right WHATSOEVER to be JEALOUS of him over a SONG! I don't have any type of stupid 'crush' on him because romance is for morons! So just- just… WHY do you LIKE me?" she asks, frustrated. Finch slams the dagger on the floor and steps away, tugging at her hair.

I exhale out of my nose in exasperation, crossing my arms and standing up. I try my best to calm myself. "You know very well why I like you." I tell her coolly.

Finch snorts, glaring into my eyes. "You like me for my appearance. I'm not even particularly pretty, so even that's a stupid reason," she snaps, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms.

"Yes you are, Finch. And it's not the only reason that I fancy you." I remark. I sit up as she stares back at me.

"Oh, really?" she answers sarcastically. "Well, isn't that interesting. If that isn't the only reason that you fancy me, I would sure like to know what your reasons are."

"I fancy you because you're clever. You gained Madanach's trust and then stabbed him in the back." I remind her matter-of-factly.

"It's not as if I invented that strategy," she retorts.

"Okay, well… your voice is beautiful." I point out.

She rolls her eyes. "The first time you heard me sing was but a few minutes ago. Anything else you think is so 'special' about me?" she inquires, scowling.

"How about the fact that, despite how many people you have killed, you are still an all-around good person?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

Finch scowls, crossing her arms. "If I'm such a good person, why is it that-" she starts, clenching her fists. Before she can finish her sentence, I stand up and shut her up with a kiss. Her eyes go wide, and she halfheartedly attempts to push me away. She puts her hands to my chest, not pushing me away or kissing me back. Finally, I pull away, and she gawks at me with a scowl.

"Honestly, you've so much nerve that it's not even funny," she informs me, crossing her arms. I smile at her, twirling a lock of her hair around my finger. Finch glares, smacking my hand away. I lean down and peck her on the cheek, causing her cheeks to flush deeply.

"Let's get going." I wink at her, knowing that I've won this dispute. Finch bites her lip, her cheeks growing redder. It's nice to win an argument every once in a while.

Finch P.O.V.

After hours upon hours of walking, we finally decide to rest until tomorrow. If I'm correct, we should arrive in Whiterun by morning. I don't realize how sore my feet are until we sit down under a tall, shady tree. I groan, wishing that we'd taken a break from walking earlier. My eyes begin to grow heavy, so I decide to rest them for a minute. I lean my head against Vorstag's broad shoulder, trying my best to fight sleep. I think I hear Vorstag ask me something as I doze off, so I simply nod to him. Within seconds, enervation conquers my senses and my eyes shut all the way.

When I open them once again, I am not in the forest with Vorstag, but in my old house northwest of Rorikstead. I sit on my old bed that I shared with my sister, Ysana. I look around the room, overjoyed by the fact that the house is still here. Quick as possible, I get to my feet, only to find that I'm much smaller than I am now. I don't question it, though. I open the door that leads to the kitchen and find myself in the small dining room where my sister sits at the table. On the table sits a basket of colorful flowers, but Ysana seems focused on something that the basket is blocking from my view. I step forward so that I can see past the basket, and she suddenly notices my presence. Ysana smiles widely, sitting up.

"Finch, you're finally awake! I've been working on something for you, I thought that you might like it," she tells me, moving the basket out of the way and revealing a circlet-like assortment of weaved flowers. Ysana gingerly picks up the crown, standing up carefully and placing it on my head. "It's a flower crown. Isn't it lovely? I thought that you might like it."

I give her a half-grin, sitting down beside her. "I haven't seen you in so long, Ysana." I tell her, holding her hand.

Ysana giggles, smiling. "I wouldn't say it was a long time, but you were asleep for longer than usual," she responds.

I furrow my brow at her. What does she mean? I've been gone for years, haven't I? What in the world is going on? I stand up suddenly, running out the front door in my bare feet. The flower crown lands in a patch of grass behind me as I run towards the river by the side of town. When I do finally arrive, I stare into the water at myself. This can't be me. I haven't seen this person staring back at me in my reflection in years. She's so young and beautiful and… she's not me. As I try to comprehend what is happening, I hear the clopping of horse hooves in the distance. I whip my head around to find a few wagons being pulled by horses down the road towards the town. I squint my eyes, trying to make out the figures of the people driving the carriages. Who could they possibly be? There are seldom any visitors here, and our population is at an all-time low. I take a step forward, only to yelp when I step on a sharp rock. I immediately regret not putting my shoes on before leaving the house when I try to take another step, only to find that the rock is still stuck in my foot. I groan, sitting down in the dirt. I examine my foot to find that it's bleeding, not badly, though. I find the small rock burrowed in my heel. Hastily, I grab hold of it and pull it out. I sigh in relief when the pain subsides, and I throw the rock into the distance. I can hear glass shattering, and for a moment I think that I've broken somebody's window. I bite my lip, only to hear the rock hit the ground a moment later.

I sit up immediately. "What the hell was that…?" I ask myself. If it wasn't the rock that shattered the glass, what was it? There's silence for a moment as I try to assess the situation. All of the sudden, somebody, probably a woman, gives an eardrum-piercing scream. I hurriedly dart forward, sprinting towards my home. I break a sweat as the wind picks up, blowing relentlessly against my face. I hear more and more screams coming from throughout the town, but I ignore them in my pursuit of reaching my family. I'm almost at the garden of the house when I realize that the soldiers who came here by carriage are heading towards the house. Trying to head into the front door would definitely endanger me and my family, so I decide to quietly make my way to the back of the house.

I make my way over to my bedroom window. I exhale deeply, trying to prepare myself for the pain about to follow, and send my elbow flying into the window. The glass shatters, but the hole is far too small for me to get through. I gulp, standing on my toes and leaning towards the window. "Ysana!" I whisper loudly. "Ysana! Are you there? It's me, Finch!"

"Finch?" Ysana whimpers back meekly, poking her head out from under the bed. Her emerald-green eyes are dilated in fear, and her golden hair is an absolute mess. "Finch, you need to get inside! Mama and Papa said that we'd be safe as long as we were inside!"

I shake my head. "Ysana, you need to get out here. You're a duck in a barrel inside; we need to get you out of there. Where are Mom and Dad?" I ask her strictly.

She bites her lip. "They went out looking for you…" she mutters, frowning.

My eyes widen in fear for them. "Ysana," I tell her, alarmed. "I need you to break this window. You need to get out here right now. We need to find them and leave."

"But… but they said that we need to stay inside-" Ysana argues, her eyes tearing up.

"Ysana! We need to go! We're not safe here! Break the damn window!" I yell at her, my eyes stinging with tears.

She nods, furrowing her brow and standing up. She grabs a bucket from the corner of the room and walks back over. Before she can do anything with the bucket, we both hear the front door fly open, banging against the wall. Ysana's eyes widen in fear, her lip quivering.

"Finch, I-I can't do this…" she stammers, her voice faltering.

"Ysana, please hurry! You have to!" I exclaim, trying desperately to tear away shards of glass with my hands. My hands start bleeding badly, and I pull them away sharply.

Ysana starts breathing heavily as we hear heavy footsteps heading towards the bedroom door. She hurriedly runs towards the window, lifting the bucket above her head and bashing it into the glass. It shatters loudly, shards of it landing on me when I fail to back away. I get a shard of glass in my left eye, blinding me slightly. Half of my vision is blurry when I back away from the window and I hear the door fly open. I hear Ysana scream shrilly, and somebody pulls her away from the window.

"Ysana!" I scream her name, giving away my position. I clamp my hand over my eye, the pain mind-numbing. Before I can get to the window, something grabs me from behind. It turns me around, shoving me up against the wall of the house. Most of my vision is blurred, but I can see enough to be able to tell that the thing that grabbed me from behind is no thing, but a man. In fact, the man is an Imperial Guard. Before I can scream for help, the man grabs his steel sword and swings it towards my head.

Vorstag P.O.V.

I frown at Finch, who's squirming around in her sleep and shivering. She must be having a nightmare. I wish that there was something I could do that might calm her down, give her good dreams. Unfortunately, there isn't much I can do when she's so deeply asleep. I sigh. It is very cold out tonight, but I've already made a fire to warm us up a bit. I decide to give her my jacket. It seems that Finch is much colder than I am, anyway. I pull my jacket off from my arms, kneeling down to her and wrapping it around her shoulders. I yawn, laying down on my back and staring at the sky. I'm surprisingly not so tired, even after traveling all day.

I smile at the stars. I can't believe that I've been staying in Markarth my entire life. It seems now that there's much that I've been missing. I never knew that it would be so beautiful outside of the Stone City, especially out in the wilderness. I decide to try to get some rest and I lay my head down on the ground. I lie down for a few minutes before realizing that it's absolutely useless and sitting up once again. I hear panting and look over at Finch where she sleeps on the ground. She seems to be the source of the noise; her face is contorted into something of great fear.

Finch continues to shiver, gritting her teeth and groaning as she sleeps. I frown at her, slouching forward. My finger twirls around a blade of grass, and I wish that I could just fall asleep. I flinch when she shrieks for help, thrashing around under my jacket. Concerned, I scoot over to Finch and grab her shoulder. "Finch, wake up." I shake her awake from her incubus. Finch shakes her head, sitting up sharply and groaning. She begins to sob softly, putting her head in her hands and not caring to look at me. I shush her as she weeps, turning away from me.

"Shh, calm down, Finch. It's okay. It wasn't real; it was just a bad dream." I try to reassure her. I wrap my arms around her and she buries her head into my chest, bawling.

"Why- w-why didn't I die instead of Ysana? Why couldn't she leave home instead of me?" she asks me, shaking her head.

I sigh, holding her tightly. "Hush, Finch. That type of thinking won't get you anywhere." I tell her simply, not knowing what to say.

"B-but… Vorstag, it's just not fair. I should be dead, too," she croaks out, shaking her head yet again. "But I'm not dead… I'm not."

"No, you shouldn't be dead. You shouldn't think like that, Finch. You deserve to live a full, joyous life. You've done so much." I remind her, closing my eyes. "You need to get some more sleep, it's very late."

"I won't be able to fall asleep, though," she says, sniffling pulling her head away from my chest so that she can look into my eyes.

"Lay down with me, then." I suggest. "You fell asleep last night when you did. Perhaps it will help calm you down a bit."

Finch doesn't hesitate to nod, and we both lay down next to each other. She faces away from me as I wrap my arms around her, placing my hand on her stomach.

"What happened?" I whisper into her ear.

She shivers from the cold. "It was… about my family. It was about the Imperials killing my family," she sniffles, shuddering again. "It's so cold out tonight…"

Nords are supposed to be almost completely immune to the cold and frost due to years of facing the cold. "Finch…" I start. "You… you are a Nord, aren't you?"

I can sense her furrowing her brow. "Yes, of course I am. Why do you ask?" she inquires, sniffling.

"Well, it's just that… you're unlike any other Nord I've ever met. I mean- you just… you act much differently." I admit.

"Well, I spent many years on my own and I never stayed in one place. It's difficult to adjust to an accent or any type of racial characteristic when you never spend all of your time with just one race," she explains, shrugging.

"That's true." I agree with her. "You can't. How long has it been since you… since you left home?"

Finch sighs, placing her hand over mine. "It's been… a long time, a very long time. I went back the day that I arrived back in Skyrim, but… I don't suppose that it was my home at that point. So it's been eight years since I really went back. It's funny, though. Well, it's not. It felt like so much longer when I was away," she says. I can hear the frown in her voice.

"You must have made some friends, though, didn't you?" I enquire.

Finch nods slightly. "I had a few. Only one of them stuck around with me, though," she responds lamely.

"Oh…" my voice falters. "Did you ever feel… lonely? When you were away from home for so long?"

"Of course, but… well, after I heard what happened to my home, I… I didn't see any reason to go back. There wasn't anything left for me. So I just… kept moving forward with my friend. Neither of us knew where to go, so… Well, we never found any place to go. We parted ways eventually, though. That wasn't long before I started considering going back to Skyrim," she answers me.

"And you loved your friend?" I ask, frowning.

Finch shrugs. "I don't know. Love is such a… strong word. I knew him for such a long time, but… I don't know how I feel about him. We were inseparable the whole time that we journeyed together, but I guess something changed. I mean, we were best friends and one day we both decide to give up everything and go our separate ways. It's strange how two people can have such a connection and all of the sudden… it's just absolutely vanished," she shakes her head.

I nod. It is strange. I've experienced it before, when I was just a boy, but I got over it, eventually. I suppose that Finch has gotten over the decaying of her friendship, too. Finch holds onto my hand, sighing once more.

"I guess that I felt that I didn't need to go home because, as long as I had a true friend like him, I was as safe as I would ever be in any old home. Since then, I suppose that my goal has been to… find somewhere to go," she tells me.

"I'm sure you will someday, Finch." I assure her, closing my eyes.

I can just barely see her smile. "I sure hope so…" she says, nestling her head into my arm.

I sigh, holding her tightly. I'm sure she will find somewhere to go, maybe even a home. I intend on helping her in her pursuit, maybe even becoming a part of it. Her long hair tickles my arm as she rolls over to face me. I open my eyes to find her blue ones staring back at me.

"You need to get to sleep." I state, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear.

She nods, causing the hair to fall back in front of her face. "I know. I'm just… not as tired, anymore." Finch smiles at me and scoots closer.

"Why not?" I ask her.

Finch twirls a strand of my hair around her finger and smiles. "I don't know…" she replies.

Before I can answer her, she leans her head forward and presses her lips to mine. As much as I want to protest because we need to sleep, I kiss her back. Her lips part slightly, allowing my tongue to gain access into her mouth. I lick her top lip, causing her to shudder. My hands trail down to her backend, and she puts her hands against my chest.

I roll onto my back and she straddles my hips, leaning down to continue kissing my lips. She squirms around a bit, trying to make herself comfortable. Her thigh brushes up against my groin in the process, causing me to moan quietly. Finch bites her lip, opening her eyes to stare at me.

"I'm… I'm sorry… It's just… I didn't mean to…" I trail off, staring at the ground.

Finch shakes her head, pursing her lips. "No, it's not your fault. It's- I just… I think that we should go to sleep, maybe. I mean, it's… we need to wake up early so that we can head to Whiterun…" she tells me, rolling onto her back and staring at the stars in the sky. I groan, banging the back of my head against the ground. Why the HELL did I do that? She must think that I'm an absolute buffoon, now! I roll away from her, clenching my fists and closing my eyes. Maybe tomorrow we can forget about this and she can forget how stupid I am.


	7. Bittersweetness

CH. 7

Finch P.O.V.

After hours of traveling in absolute, awkward silence, Vorstag and I finally arrive to our destination. I give a sigh of relief, stretching my arms outwards.

"We're finally here. Thank goodness." I tell him, rubbing my eyes.

"Good…" he responds. This is the first time I've heard him speak since early this morning when he suggested that we head out towards Whiterun. He must be acting this way because of… the incident last night.

"Well, erm… let's go, then." I suggest, heading towards the front gate. The guards open the large doors for us. We enter Whiterun, and I suddenly remember the aching in my stomach. I haven't eaten in days, though it's not like I'm unused to that. We should probably go and see Carlotta; she sells fruits and vegetables near the center of town. I doubt that Vorstag has ever been here before, so I lead him towards where Carlotta's stand is. When we arrive, Carlotta is busy organizing her wares while her daughter, Mila, stands beside her. The two seem to be arguing about something.

"But, Mom! We've run out of food at the house, and I haven't had breakfast yet!" Mila whines in a pleading tone of voice.

Carlotta frowns, furrowing her brow. "I know, Mila, but you can go out to the meadow and harvest apples, or something. I've already told you, I can't give away my food," Carlotta replies, frantically putting a bunch of apples back in place.

"Why not?" Mila asks, crossing her arms.

"Because, darling," Carlotta answers, sighing. "I can't make a profit if I simply give away my crops for free, you know that very well."

I clear my throat, stepping forward. The two of them jump, just now noticing our presence. Carlotta smiles, standing up straight.

"Hello, Miss Vosskron. It's wonderful to see you. Would you like to buy anything today?" she asks.

I nod, stepping forward. "I'll take a couple of sweet rolls, if you have any." I say, leaning forward onto the stall.

Carlotta nods, crossing over to a small basket and pulls out two sweet rolls. She sets them on the counter as I pull a coin purse from my pocket. I set the coins on the counter, and I grab the sweet rolls off of the counter. I turn around and hand one to Vorstag. He glances at it for a moment, then at Mila. He steps towards her.

"Here," he says, handing the sweet roll to her. "you can have it."

Mila stares at the sweet roll in disbelief, and then she looks up at Vorstag. "Are you sure you don't want it?" Mila asks, biting her lip.

Vorstag smiles and nods at her. "Of course, you can have it. You seem to want it more, anyway. Take it," he insists.

Mila grins widely, running towards Vorstag and embracing him tightly. It's odd seeing them hug, seeing as Vorstag is over a foot taller than Mila. He hugs her back, patting her on the back.

"Thank you, sir. I really appreciate it," Mila thanks Vorstag, letting go of him and running off.

I stare at Vorstag, raising my eyebrows. "But- but what are you going to eat?" I ask him, putting my hands on my hips.

Vorstag shrugs, crossing his arms. "I can find something. I thought I saw an apple tree around the outside of Whiterun, anyway," he responds nonchalantly.

Carlotta purses her lips, grabbing the coin off of the table. She takes my arm, placing the coin in my hand and closing my fingers over it.

"That was very generous of you, buying him food," she tells me. She lets go of my arm and turns to Vorstag. "And you, for giving your food to my daughter. You must have overheard our discussion. Thank you very much, that was very kind of you."

Vorstag smiles, staring at the ground. "It's no big deal, honestly…" he answers, uncrossing his arms.

Carlotta shakes her head, grabbing an apple from a barrel. "It was a big deal, and I really appreciate it. Take this," she tells him, tossing him the apple.

Vorstag catches it quickly, staring at Carlotta. "Are you sure? I thought you said that you wouldn't make a profit if you gave out your wares?" he says.

She nods. "Yes, but… you've done me a big favor. It's my gift to you," she tells him, nodding politely.

"Oh, well… thank you," he tells her, sending her a nod back.

Carlotta continues her work as we walk off towards my house. I smile at him, but then I look away when he sees that I am.

"Is… something wrong?" he asks when I turn my head away sharply.

I shake my head, smiling. "No, that was just… really kind, what you did. Really, it was." I tell him frankly.

Vorstag grins. "Thank you. You're the one who actually paid for it, though," he points out.

We approach the door to my house, Breezehome, and I pull the key out from my pocket. "Yes, but that's different." I inform him.

"How so?" he asks from behind me.

I slide the key into the door, turning it with a loud click. "Because, I owe you." I respond, pulling the key out. "I owe you my life, actually. Unfortunately, a sweet roll is all that I can pay back for now." I joke with him, opening the door. The house isn't very big, no, but I have a few others in different cities. I suppose the difficult part of all of this is figuring out where I want to be. Who says I have to stay in one place, though?

Vorstag smiles when we enter the house, looking around.

"I like it. It's very comfy-looking," he tells me and nods. I tell him he can sit down, and I walk off to the alchemy lab. There, sitting next to the table, is a pile of wood. I pick up a few blocks of it, carrying the heavy wood back to the sitting room. Vorstag is sitting, eating his apple when I come back. I throw the wood bricks into the fire pit, causing a loud thud.

"Do you need any help?" he asks. "I know how to start a fire, actually."

"Okay, sure. I'll get some kindling from the alchemy lab and you can cut off a piece of wood to act as a spindle." I tell him, grabbing a sharp dagger from the table and handing it to him. I walk off to the alchemy lab once again. From various baskets, I gather all of the twigs that I can and then I head back out to the sitting room. Vorstag has a stick cut off from the block of wood already and is now cutting a notch into the block.

I cross over to the unlit fireplace, lifting up a block of wood and carefully placing the kindling underneath. When it's all organized under the wood, I set the block back down. Vorstag stands up and then kneels down next to me, setting down the wood with a notch carved into it. He takes the stick, placing the end in the indentation. Careful not to have his hands too close to the end making contact with the block, he begins to slowly spin the stick back and forth.

I stand up, walking over to the alchemy lab once more. I shut both of the doors. When I turn around, I am astonished to see that the embers from the wood have completely ignited the fire pit. What used to be an empty indentation in the ground is now filled with a radiant, glorious inferno. My eyes widen at how suddenly Vorstag was able to create the blaze.

"How did you…" my voice falters as I step towards him.

Vorstag smiles sheepishly. "I've… had a lot of practice, I suppose," he replies, standing up.

I raise my eyebrows. "A lot of practice? Damn right, you have! I've practiced for over ten years and it takes me at _least _five minutes to get a spark!" I exclaim, still dumbfounded.

Vorstag laughs inwardly. "Well, I just… I'm a few years older than you, and… I've had more practice because I used to start fires for practice all the time when I was small," he tells me, smiling proudly.

I huff in bewilderment, shaking my head. "You must have, I've never seen anybody start a fire within seconds." I answer, my eyes wide. Vorstag chuckles at my reaction, sitting down on the bench. I grab my sweet roll from where I set it on the table and take a bite. He turns his head towards me, patting the seat on the bench beside him in invitation to sit next to him. I smile, walking over and taking a seat beside him. I take another bite of sweet roll.

"Finch, um… can I ask you something?" he asks hesitantly and sits up straight.

I nod slowly, swallowing the piece of food in my mouth. "Okay… sure. What is it, Vorstag?" I reply.

Vorstag sighs. "About last night…" he starts, and I immediately know what he's going to talk about. "I'm sorry that I- that I, um… well, I got a bit aroused. I know that you're really not interested in anything particularly 'romantic,' so… I'm sorry."

I frown. I wish that there was some way to explain things to him, why I don't want to get romantically involved because I can't afford to make any mistakes, how it would be selfish to get involved in any way because it puts more people in danger. Unfortunately, I don't know just how to explain it to him because, in reality, I barely understand it myself.

"You don't have to feel sorry. It's human nature. Well, it's in the nature of all species, I suppose. It's not that I don't want to, Vorstag, it's… complicated." I state, biting the inside of my cheek.

"How so?" he asks, staring at me intensely with his dark brown eyes.

"I don't know, frankly. I just…" I start, twiddling my thumbs.

"It's… like you said before? It would be a mistake to get romantically involved with me?" he frowns, his eyes sorrowful.

"No, no, I just- I said that it would be a mistake to get involved in a relationship because… I could really ruin things for both of us." I tell him honestly, sighing. "I'm just… I'm never safe. I haven't ever been safe, and that fact endangers everyone that I even come into contact with. I just don't think that a romance is worth putting someone in grave danger for. I don't know if I could bear to lose anyone else who I care for." I admit to him, barely believing the words that came out of my mouth. Did I just imply that I do care for Vorstag and that, if I were not always the prey, I would be his romantic interest? No, that's silly. Love is real, I think. It's the look in my parents' eyes when they looked at each other. It's the feeling that I had for my sister, who I lived with for fifteen years. It is most certainly not the feelings I have for a mercenary that I hired just days ago.

I don't quite know how I feel about Vorstag. He is a true friend of mine, yes. He has risked his life for me more than a couple of times, and you don't do that for somebody unless you truly lo- …No, that's silly. Vorstag simply has a crush on me. Those feelings will pass eventually, I'm sure. Perhaps I simply think that my feelings for Vorstag should be as his are for me because I owe him. Perhaps my gratitude and the guiltiness of not being able to repay him simply make me believe that I owe it to him to at least try my best to love him. Yes, that's definitely it.

I see Vorstag grin out of the corner of my eye. "So… you would consider it if things were different? You would consider… becoming my… romantic interest?" he asks giddily, almost childishly.

I clear my throat, avoiding his gaze. "I… perhaps." I tell him.

"In a different time and place we would be together?" he inquires, turning his head to me.

I glare at the fire, tightening my grip on the sweet roll. I sit up sharply, still avoiding his gaze. "Yes," I tell him. "but it's not a different time, nor place."

"It could be, though. It would be so easy to leave Skyrim…" he ponders, gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully.

I stand up. "I'm going to sleep. You can think about your little fantasy for a while, if you wish." I tell him, heading upstairs and throwing the sweet roll in the fire that he built.

"Wait! Don't go!" I hear him object as I walk up the stairs. He runs after me as I head towards my bedroom. Just as I reach the door, he puts his hand on my shoulder and turns me around. I cross my arms.

"What could you possibly want?" I snap, glaring into his eyes. Is the concept that I want to be alone for a while really this difficult for him to grasp?

"What's wrong with you? You were perfectly fine a few minutes ago!" he barks, scowling.

I cross my arms, scoffing. What business of his is it that I want to be alone for a few minutes? "It's not important! Why don't you mind your own business?" I spit, turning away from him and opening the door to my bedroom. I stomp inside, pulling off my jacket and then throwing it on the ground.

"Is it such a crime that I want to know why you just snapped at me for absolutely no reason?" he asks harshly, picking up my jacket and hanging it over the back of a chair. I scowl at him, sitting down on my bed and pulling my boots off one at a time.

"It's none of your business how I'm feeling!" I yell, throwing my boots against the wall. "Your ego is just too big to comprehend the fact that I DON'T want to be your DAMN GIRLFRIEND!"

Vorstag glares, crossing his arms. "That's what this is about?" he laughs coldly. "Oh, how mature you are."

I stand up abruptly, stomping over to him and clenching my fists to keep from smacking him. "Oh, so now I'M the immature one? You're the one with a stupid, childish little CRUSH on me! Only an absolute FOOL thinks that relationships are all fun and games! That's EXACTLY what your problem is! You think that everything is just a big joke, don't you?! Well, it's not! What happens if I get knocked up at some point, huh? What the HELL am I supposed to do about that? NOTHING! There's absolutely NOTHING that I can do! I would be one stupid bitch if I thought that it was safe to raise a child here in Skyrim! Guess what? Unlike the common thoughts amongst the citizens here, it's not safe now that Alduin is dead! The dragons are still out there, and there's absolutely NOTHING I can do about that, either! Not at all, because I've already done everything that I can! It's not enough though, obviously, because people are still out there being killed for absolutely no reason! An immature or lazy person doesn't go out and kill a dragon, THAT'S my job. You can call me whatever you wish, but you may NOT accuse me of something that I most certainly am not! Is that FUCKING clear enough for you?!" I scream, shoving him forcefully out of the door.

I slam the door shut, still fuming from his insult. Why would he say that? Is it really so difficult for him to get through his thick skull? Why can't he just leave me alone for once? I step over to my bed and then I sit down. I frown, lying down on my stomach. I wince slightly when my abdomen hits the bed, and I suddenly remember the cut I have there. I lift my shirt up enough so that I can see it. Oh, how lovely. It's bleeding again. I stand up, stretching my shirt forward as far as I can so I don't get any blood on it. I open the door reluctantly, trying to be as quick and quiet as possible. Trying to be light on my feet, I run downstairs to the alchemy lab, not bothering to see if Vorstag is out here. I grab one of the healing potions from a cabinet, popping the lid off and taking a swig. That should make it hurt much less.

I grab one of the ointments that I have from the shelf underneath the one with potions, but I hardly know which one is which. The labels on the ointment tins only state the ingredients, not what the medicine is for. Scowling, I set the tin back on the shelf. I decide to ignore it and grab a bandage from a cupboard. I lift my shirt up higher, wrapping the bandage around my waist tightly. I tie a knot so that the bandage is secure, and pull my shirt back down. I hope I haven't been too loud; I don't really feel like facing Vorstag right now. I sigh, slowly opening the door and heading into the dining room. I quickly run up the stairs, looking behind me. I turn the corner, only to shriek when I run into Vorstag and Lydia. Well, mostly Vorstag. I crash into him, falling backwards onto my behind. I look up, and the two of them frown at me in pity.

"My Thane, it's good to see you…" Lydia greets me in a wary voice. "But… well, from what I heard, you aren't doing so well."

She offers me a hand, but I ignore her and stand up myself. "I'm just fine." I mutter, rolling my eyes.

"Are you sure, my Thane? It seems that… well, your stomach is bleeding," she informs me.

I look down at my shirt, only to find that she's right. It's soaked in red. "God… damn it!" I snap, pulling my shirt off and stomping downstairs. I hear the two of them follow me to the alchemy lab with their stupid, heavy footsteps. Why won't they leave me alone?

I dig through the cupboards for something, anything, to heal my wound, but to no avail. I grab a few of the bottles, throwing them on the ground. Who was the moron who never labeled the damn bottles? Lydia and Vorstag enter the room as I give up on the medicine, sitting down and slouching forward.

"Forget it." I tell them, defeated. "Just let me bleed to death."

They both raise an eyebrow simultaneously, but neither steps forward. That's smart of them- I might slit somebody's throat with one of the broken bottles on the floor if they come any closer.

"Just use something with plenty of wheat and salt, they're both good for healing wounds," Vorstag informs me warily.

I squint at him. "…Salt? Do you know how much salt hurts? I mean, people say to rub salt in a wound when they're telling you to toughen up; I don't think that-" I murmur, raising my eyebrows at him.

"Do you want to get better or not?" he asks, crossing his arms.

"He's right, my Thane-" Lydia says, but I cut her off.

"Finch. Just… call me Finch." I tell her, aggravated. I sigh, sitting up. I notice the blood on the palms of my hands, and I assume that it's from my abdomen. I'm proven wrong when I turn my hands over and find the many shards of glass buried into them. I sigh, leaning back and hitting my head against the cupboard. This isn't such a good day, so far.

"Finch, are you all right?" he asks, alarmed.

I grit my teeth, sitting up. "I'm perfectly fine! Just… why can't you two just leave me alone? I'm perfectly fine on my own!" I snarl, pulling a shard of glass from my hand. I clench my fists when the blood starts streaming from my hands. I push myself off of the ground, my bloodied hand leaving a crimson mark on the floor. I grunt as Lydia and Vorstag both grab one of my arms, pulling me to my feet.

"I'll get something to soak up the blood, you should go sit her down somewhere," Vorstag advises Lydia, carefully letting go of my arm. Lydia nods in compliance, leading me over to the dining room as Vorstag starts rummaging through the cupboards for something to help.

She sits me down, frowning in sympathy.

"I know that you don't want our help, Finch, but you need it. We just want to help you," she states, tilting her head and standing up. I roll my eyes, crossing my arms.

"I can take care of myself." I inform her, looking away.

Lydia sighs, crossing her arms. "I care about you, my Thane. I'm almost positive he does as well, and I don't even know his name yet. Please, let us help you," she nearly implores, her eyes full of sorrow. "I hate to see you this way."

I sigh, uncrossing my arms and looking her in the eyes. She's right, I suppose. Why am I being so reluctant to accept their help? Why have I been so rude to them? And why the HELL am I thinking so much? Maybe I'm just losing a bit too much blood. I should probably just stop thinking, it might make the blood rush to… wait, what was I saying? I just… need to get the glass out of my hands. I might feel better then.

Vorstag rushes back in carrying a couple of bottles of medicine and some bandages. He sets all of the stuff down on the table, kneeling down to my level. He carefully takes one of my wrists, turning my hand over so that he can assess the damage. He bites his lip, thinking as he stares at my bloody hand.

"This is going to hurt," he tells me, glancing into my eyes and then back at my hand. Before I can ask him what he's talking about, he quickly pulls a rather large shard of glass out of my hand. I yelp at the suddenness of his actions, biting down hard on my lip to distract myself from the stinging pain.

Vorstag frowns. "I'm sorry, Finch. I need to get all of the glass out of your hands before anything else, but… if you can take down a dragon, I'm sure it'll be no problem," he states with a half-smile, trying his best to lighten the mood.

I nod, exhaling. "You're right. It's nothing. Just… get it over with." I tell him, shaking my head. He nods, pursing his lips and pulling out another piece of glass and setting it on the table.

Over the next ten or so minutes, Vorstag continues to pluck out all of the glass from my hands while Lydia mixes up some sort of medicine that Vorstag told her to make. Finally, Vorstag examines my hands for a minute and concludes that the glass is all out. I sigh in relief, outstretching my arms. Lydia hands him a bowl of water with a piece of cloth in it. He thanks her as I tilt my head in curiosity.

"Water? Is that… to clean out the cuts?" I ask, thinking out loud.

Vorstag ignores the question and takes the drenched cloth out of the bowl, signaling for me to give him my hands. I comply, extending my arms forward so that my palms are facing upward. He squeezes the cloth tightly, wringing out the water into my hands. I yelp out in pain immediately when my hands begin to sting intensely, and I scoot away from him.

"What the hell is that? I thought that you were just going to clean the damn cuts!" I bark at him, glaring at my burning hands.

Vorstag bites his lip, placing the cloth back into the bowl and then pulling my hands back forward. "I did, with salt water. I knew you wouldn't let me if you knew what was in the bowl," he points out matter-of-factly. I might punch him if my hands weren't in such pain.

"Just… get this all over with!" I yell, glaring daggers at the mercenary.

"Patience is virtue, Finch," he mutters, grabbing the cloth from the bowl and wiping off the excess blood from them.

I grit my teeth, trying my best to ignore the sizzling sensation. "Since when are you a philosopher, mercenary?" I ask rhetorically.

"I'm more of a philosopher than you are, apparently," he tells me, setting the cloth back into the bowl and grabbing a bottle of medicine. "And I'm not a mercenary. That would imply that I'm only in this business for money."

"I didn't say you were. By the way you're explaining it, it sounds like I just called you a whore." I tell him, laughing. He smirks, chuckling. "What do you prefer to be called, then?"

"Perhaps a, 'Soldier of Fortune,'" he tells me, applying medicine to my hands gingerly.

"Soldier of Fortune? That makes you sound even more materialistic." I say to him.

Vorstag smiles slightly, grabbing bandages from the table. "Call me what you wish, I don't really mind. Just remember- I'm not materialistic," he informs me, taking my right hand and wrapping it up with the bandage.

"I know…" I respond thoughtfully. "But… why did you want me to hire you in the first place?"

He shrugs. "Well, I just started working as a, 'mercenary,' and I figured that you needed some help. Plus, I… kind of needed an excuse to talk to you," he admits, avoiding my gaze.

"You could have just talked to me." I answer as he grabs another bandage from the table.

Vorstag nods slightly, wrapping up my other hand. "Yes, but… I don't see any reason for someone like you to have any business with me," he says, frowning.

I tilt my head. "Why wouldn't I?" I ask, puzzled.

Vorstag shrugs when he's done wrapping up my hand. He stands up. "Well, you're just so… successful and famous and… well, feared, too. I seldom even left Markarth before you hired me. I figured that you don't usually waste your time interacting with mercenaries," he replies.

"You figured wrong. It's not a waste of time at all. Plus, you're much different from others that I've met before. Something about you just seemed much… calmer. The others were just a bit too enthusiastic and… well, they had a fairly insatiable bloodlust. I don't kill just to kill, though. I kill to protect." I inform him.

Vorstag grins slightly. "You really think so? You think that I'm… different from them?" he asks me, crossing his arms.

I nod. "You definitely are. That's what I like about you." I tell him.

Vorstag stares at the ground, smiling widely. "Well, thank you…" he thanks me, lifting his head to gaze into my eyes. After a moment of silence, he clears his throat. "I, um… I need to put medicine on your other wound. The one on your stomach…" Vorstag uncrosses his arms. He bites his lip as if asking permission to do so.

"Oh…" I say. I nod. "O-okay. Go ahead."

Vorstag grabs another cloth and soaks it in the bowl of saltwater. He kneels down to my level. "I'm sorry if this hurts," he tells me, frowning. Vorstag presses the cloth to the cut.

I grimace and grit my teeth, trying not to think about the burning pain. Vorstag wipes away most of the blood, cleaning the wound out. After a minute, he finishes and set the cloth in the bowl. He grabs the same bottle of medicine. I sigh in relief after he applies it to the cut. It helps the pain go away quite a bit, but not completely.

I stand up so that he can wrap the last bandage around my waist. He does so carefully, trying not to touch my wound. I sigh, exhausted. I should sleep for longer at night; I'm already tired and it's only noon. "Thank you, Vorstag. And you too, Lydia." I tell them when Vorstag is finished.

They both nod politely, and Lydia hands me my shirt. "It's no problem, my Thane," she replies.

"You can call me Finch, Lydia." I remind her.

"Oh… right. I'm sorry, Finch," she apologizes, smiling slightly. "Old habits die hard, I suppose."

I grin back at her. "It's alright."

Vorstag bites his bottom lip thoughtfully. "You look tired, Finch. You should get some sleep," he advises me as I pull my shirt back on. I glance over at Lydia, who nods at me in agreement with his statement. I decide not to argue and head upstairs, advising them to wake me up in a few hours. I need to buy food for the house; I can't oversleep today.

Vorstag P.O.V.

As soon as we both hear the door to Finch's room close, Lydia smiles at me.

"You fancy her, don't you?" Lydia asks, chuckling.

I sit down next to her at the table, grinning. "Why wouldn't I?" I ask, leaning back in my chair. "She continues to surprise me each time that we speak. I've never met anybody like her."

Lydia laughs inwardly. "Oh? You mean you've never met any other dragon-slayers?" she jests rhetorically, grabbing a couple of apples from a bowl of fruit. She throws me one of them and I catch it, taking a bite out of it.

"No, actually," I laugh. "I haven't. It's not just that, though. There's something about her personality that's just so… youthful. It's refreshing. You see it too, don't you?"

Lydia tilts her head, contemplating something. "I suppose so. I never really thought about it before," she answers, taking a bite out of her apple. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. "Does she have these feelings for you? Have you two ever… you know…" Lydia smirks at me.

My eyes widen slightly. "Oh, no. I doubt she's ever even considered being my, 'girlfriend,' let alone… anything less innocent than that." I tell her, shaking my head.

"You've considered the so-called, 'less innocent,' though, haven't you?" Lydia asks, grinning devilishly at me.

My mouth goes dry as sand as I try to come up with an answer for her question. Lydia laughs, leaning forward. "You can tell me the truth, you know. I'm fairly good at keeping secrets. Not to mention the fact that I already know the answer to my question. That is, unless you're a virgin. You aren't still a virgin, are you?" she asks tauntingly.

I sit up, crossing my arms. "No… of course not. Not at all. Why, are you?" I lie and then try to change the subject.

Lydia smirks, kicking her feet up on the table. "I can't say that I am. Actually, I definitely can't say so. I've also had my fair share of fantasies now and then, too. Not that you would know much about that, virgin," she tells me nonchalantly.

"W-what do you mean?" I ask, gritting my teeth.

"The air about you screams it. You're a bit too kind and, well… naïve. I'm going to head up to bed," she answers, taking her feet off of the table and standing up. She heads for the stairs. "Don't forget to wake Finch up in a few hours." Lydia goes upstairs, leaving me alone in the dining room.

Naïve? What does she mean by _naïve? _I can see everything perfectly clearly. I mean… I think so. What is she even talking about? Whatever, I think I need some sleep, too. I'll just sleep here so that I'll wake up in time to wake Finch up.

I lie my head down on the table, closing my eyes. Why do women have to be so confusing all of the time? I suppose I'll never truly understand them. Maybe that's what Lydia meant when she called me naïve- that I don't yet understand the thoughts of a female. Of course, that would make every man naïve, I suppose.


	8. Awkward

A/N: _**PLEASE READ THIS! **_This chapter is DEFINITELY rated M. There is some lemony material in here and, while it's not EXTREMELY explicit, it is lemony, nonetheless. If you aren't mature enough to read on, I suggest you don't read that part. Seriously. On another note, I'm sorry that I've taken so long to update (2 weeks, exactly… yes, I've been counting) and I feel really bad for taking so long, but I've been very busy. I also apologize that this chapter isn't very long, but I haven't had much time to write. Also, I'm not much of a lemony writer, so it's really awkward writing lemony things, hence the short chapter and the stalling near the actually lemony part and then, after the stalling, rushing… if that makes any sense. Anyway, enjoy and be warned: this chapter is pure smut.

CH. 8

Vorstag P.O.V.

My eyes snap open when I start coughing involuntarily. I lift my head up and the smoke all throughout the air fills my lungs, making me hack and wheeze. I look around and it stings my eyes when I find that it's all around the house. The source of it is a strong, large blaze that has enveloped the living room and is working its way to the kitchen. I nearly spring out of the chair, choking on the thick air. I run towards the stairs, coughing and tripping on the way up. "Finch! Lydia! Wake up!" I shout as loud as I can.

I run to Finch's room, trying the doorknob and finding it to be locked. I bang on the door, trying to wake her up. "Finch!" I yell, pounding on the door. "Finch, wake up!" When there is no answer, I find that there is no choice other than to try to get inside the room. I run back from the door as far away as I can, and then I turn to face it. Exhaling, I run at the door with full force, smacking it with my shoulder. The door gives in slightly, but not enough for me to get through. With all of the power that I have, I step back and kick the door as hard as I can, causing it to fall forward onto the ground.

I run inside the room, finding Finch in her bed, asleep. I run to her side, shaking her in an attempt to wake her up. "Come on, Finch! Wake up- we have to get out of here!" I shout, pulling her off the bed. She opens her eyes slightly, coughing.

"Vorstag? What are you doing here?" she asks in a sleepy voice.

I grab her hands, pulling her to her feet. "We need to get out of here now! It's an emergency!" I advise her, pulling her towards the door.

Finch's eyes snap open, and she nods, coughing and wheezing. "O-okay," she tells me between coughs. She hurriedly follows me over to Lydia's room. I open the door, glad to find that it's not locked. I step in, shaking Lydia awake as I did to Finch. Lydia opens her eyes, raising an eyebrow as she sits up.

"What's going on?" Lydia asks, standing up.

"There's a fire, we need to get outside and get help." I inform her, trying my best to stay calm.

She nods, standing up and walking past us out the doorway. The three of us walk towards the stairs, only to find that they've been set aflame. Lydia lightly sets her foot on the first step in front of us, pulling it away when she makes a hole. "The stairs- they're too weak to walk on!" she shouts in a panicked tone.

"What the hell do we do?" Finch asks, her chest heaving. We all back away from the rapidly spreading fire, praying that somebody will help us.

Lydia steps forward, gazing at the flames. "We need to jump. It's the only way out," she states, eyeing the two of us.

Finch's eyes go wide. She glances back and forth between Lydia and the large wall of flames. "Are you mad? I-I'm not- there's no way that I'm jumping through that fire! It's bound to get us all killed! And I'm not going to risk my life over it! I'm sure somebody will help us!" Finch argues in an almost imploring tone of voice.

"Finch, we have to go! There's no other way!" Lydia yells back, grabbing Finch's arm and pulling her along.

"NO!" Finch screams, desperately struggling to get away from Lydia. "NO! I CAN'T GO THROUGH THERE! STOP IT! LET ME GO!" Finch grabs onto my arm, holding onto me for dear life. She looks up at me pleadingly, clutching onto me.

I hold onto her, pulling her away from Lydia. "She doesn't have to go if she doesn't want to!" I raise my voice at Lydia and pull Finch away.

"Vorstag!" Lydia exclaims. "You two are going to get killed if you stay here!"

"Just go and get help! You can't force her to go if she doesn't want to!" I argue, pointing to the wall of fire. Finch begins to hyperventilate, and I hold her, trying to shush her and calm her down.

Lydia sighs, crossing her arms. "All right, I'll go get help. You two need to stay as far away from the fire as possible. Vorstag, are you sure that you're not coming with me?" she asks in a stern voice.

I bite my lip, staring down at Finch's fearful eyes. I can't just leave her here alone. I won't. I nod, sighing. "Yes, I'm staying here. Just… hurry up, okay?" I tell her, nodding.

Lydia nods affirmatively, uncrossing her arms and backing up as far away from the stairs as she can. "Wish me luck," she tells us, exhaling. Lydia runs as fast as she can towards the staircase, jumping through the wall of fire and downstairs. Finch and both dash over to the staircase, hoping that Lydia made it. After a moment of silence, she finally speaks up from downstairs. "I'm all right! I'm going to get help! Stay as far away from the fire as possible!" Lydia advises us. I pull Finch away from the fire when I hear the front door close.

Finch sits down in the corner, tucking her knees up to her chest. She squeezes her eyes shut tightly, gripping onto my hand for dear life. I shush her, wrapping my arms around her. "We're going to be okay, Finch," I try my best to assure her. "Lydia's going to get us help, and we'll be okay."

Finch looks up at me. "But what if she's too late? If she doesn't get here in time, we're going to die!" Finch panics, her eyes full of fear.

"Don't say that. I know she'll get back in time." I tell her.

"But what if she doesn't, Vorstag?!" she snaps, letting go of my hand and tugging at her hair. Finch coughs violently, letting go of her hair and clenching her stomach.

I sigh. I don't want her to be afraid, but it's hard to assure her of anything when, in fact, I myself am doubting that we'll be okay. I have to be strong for her, though. If I'm strong for her, I can at least try my best to help her. Of course, the chances of us escaping from the fire aren't unlikely…

I sit up, clearing my throat. If there is a chance that we don't see the sunlight again, I can't leave this world without letting her know my true thoughts about her. "Finch…" I say softly, frowning. "If we don't make it out of here in time, if we don't survive, then I just- I want you to know that… I love you."

Finch's eyes widen slightly, but not nearly as much as I'd expected them to. She closes her eyes, resting her head against the back of the wall. "I know," she answers simply. She grabs my hand again, closing her eyes and resting her head against my shoulder. "I know you do, Vorstag."

I would smile if the situation was different and we weren't in danger of perishing. Unfortunately, we are. So for now, I won't be able to enjoy the fact that she knows how I feel about her. However, it's her opinion of me that matters more. Not that _any _of that matters at the moment. At least if I die today, then I won't die stuck in Markarth alone.

Finch coughs heavily, pulling the collar of her shirt over her nose and mouth to keep most of the smoke out, but to no avail. I stand up, pulling her to her feet and leading both of us to her bedroom where we can avoid most of the smoke. We both sit on the bed, and her coughing lessens in frequency. She frowns, holding my hand.

"I'm sorry about earlier, with the… with our argument. I didn't mean to call you anything rude. Well, I did. It's just- it's not true," she apologizes in a somber tone.

I nod, understanding how she feels. "I'm sorry, as well. I was being… snobby. I should have just minded my own business." I explain to her. And it's true- I was invading her privacy. What kind of friend am I if I can't respect the fact that she has secrets of her own?

Finch closes her eyes, and a single tear rolls down her cheek. She frowns putting her head against my shoulder again. "I wish this house had some damn windows," she mutters through her teeth.

I chuckle, even though I shouldn't, just because there's a lot of truth behind her statement. If the house had windows, we could easily break out of here. However, I've come to notice that most of the houses in Skyrim don't have windows. It's strange, really.

I hold her close to me for what seems like forever, though it can't be more than five minutes. Over the sound of the crackling wood and flames, I hear the front door open and immediately stand up, walking over to the door.

"Hello?" calls out a deep, gruff voice from downstairs. "Is anybody here?"

I open the door as Finch stands up, walking over to stand beside me. The flames have spread even more, and have completely consumed the stairs.

"Up here!" I reply, walking into the hallway and trying to see past the flames. "We're both up here!"

"My friends are getting water to put out the fire as we speak, but I need to get you out of here," the voice remarks. "I'm going to try and help you down, but I need you both to stand as close to the stairs as you possibly can."

I grab Finch's arm, pulling her over to the flaming stairs. I can see a man past the flames, but I don't recognize him. He has jet black hair and a stocky build, and has a sword with him. "Okay," I answer to him. "what do I do now?"

"I need you two to try and jump. I'll catch you if you fall, I promise," the man tells us.

I turn to Finch. "You go first, Finch." I insist, pulling her closer to the staircase. She coughs, not bothering to put up a fight, and jumps forward. The man catches her as I jump down, landing next to them. The three of us run out of the house, wheezing and coughing from the smoke.

"Where are we headed?" I ask the man as we follow him.

"I'm going to take you to Jorvaskrr, that's where I live," he answers in his gruff voice.

Finch raises an eyebrow. "Jorvaskrr? Are you a Companion?" she inquires.

He smiles, nodding as we arrive at Jorvaskrr. "I'm Farkas. Who are you two?"

"I'm Finch," she responds, crossing her arms.

"I'm Vorsta-" I start, but he ignores me and turns to Finch.

"That's a lovely name," he tells her, smiling and staring into her eyes. Finch clears her throat uncomfortably as I scowl at him. "Would the two of you like to stay here for now?"

Finch considers it for a moment. "All right," she says to him, nodding. "I suppose we could…"

Before I have time to object, Farkas' grin grows even wider. "Great!" he answers enthusiastically. "You should come inside. I'll introduce you to everyone."

I narrow my eyes as he grabs her arm, pulling her along with him inside Jorvaskrr. We find ourselves inside of a dining hall with a table right in the middle. A few of the Companions are seated around the table, staring at us. A woman with dark red hair speaks up.

"Who are they?" the young woman asks, raising an eyebrow at us.

Farkas smiles slightly. "This is Finch," he explains, not even bothering to mention me. "Her house just burned down, so we're going to let her stay here."

I clear my throat. Farkas sighs, nodding towards me. "This is her friend… Vor-something."

I cross my arms. "Vorstag," I snarl at him. "And we're good friends, actually."

Farkas nods, waving his hand dismissively. I roll my eyes. How childish of him. Whatever, Finch likes me more than she does him. Finch pulls her arm out of his grasp, scooting away slightly.

The other woman tilts her head at Finch slightly, leaning forward. She examines her face closely, thoughtfully. "Your name is Finch, right?" she asks. Finch nods. The woman raises her eyebrows. "As in… Finch Vosskron? The Dragonborn?"

Finch nods once more, crossing her arms. The woman smiles widely, sitting up straight. "I knew I recognized you! I just-"

"That's absolutely inconceivable!" the man next to her objects, standing up. He closely resembles Farkas, though his hair is shorter and he's a bit less muscled. He walks around the table slowly, staring at Finch. He crosses over to her, approaching her until he's merely inches away from her face.

"Vilkas, don't act like this," Farkas groans, stepping towards the man.

Vilkas puts his hand up, not tearing his gaze from Finch who looks extremely uncomfortable. "Act like what, Brother?" he asks. "I'm simply not convinced that this scrawny little girl is capable of taking down a dragon." Vilkas leans in closer as Finch clenches her fists. I step forward, partly because I want him to stop and partly because I know that, if Finch tries to punch him, he'll break her arm.

"Think again," she tells him, narrowing her eyes. She steps back a bit, crossing her arms. "I don't even know you, and yet you're here judging who I am by my appearance?"

"I'm better with judgment than you may think, little girl," Vilkas states, smirking. "Unless you can somehow prove that you are, indeed, the Dragonborn, I suggest you shut your mouth."

"That's enough!" I yell, almost at the exact same time as Farkas. We both step forward, but Finch waves us away.

Finch shakes her head. "No, it's okay," she tells us, not taking her eyes off of Vilkas, "I can prove it."

Vilkas chuckles, nodding. "Sure you can," he laughs sarcastically. "I'd like to see that."

Finch steps back narrowing her eyes at him. "Very well," she tells him, "I'll show you." Farkas and I both take a step back as Finch closes her eyes. Vilkas crosses his arms impatiently.

"Well," he starts, "are you going to get on with it or what?"

Finch exhales. "Just for the record," she starts and she opens her eyes, "I'm sorry if I break anything." Without warning, Finch lets out a shout- an actual shout in the dragon language- and sends Vilkas flying backwards over the table with a bunch of silverware and plates.

Farkas, the girl with red hair, and I all guffaw. Farkas begins to applaud, and the other woman and I all join in.

"Well done," the woman tells Finch, laughing, "that ought to teach him to act like such an ass, eh? I'm Aela. It's good to meet you." Aela shakes Finch's hand as Vilkas gets back up onto his feet, recovering from the fall. He shakes his head, glaring at all of us.

"Whatever," he says to no one in particular. He marches off, pouting like a child who's just been denied a sweet roll.

Farkas smiles at Finch, patting her on the back. "How about we all sit down and have some mead?" he suggests, walking over to the other side of the table and putting the plates and silverware back to where they were before.

Finch nods as her, Aela and I sit down. Farkas pours us all a tankard of mead.

"Does he usually act like that?" Finch asks no one in particular, taking a sip of mead.

Aela and Farkas both nod, Farkas smiling. "At all times, actually," Aela replies, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "His ego is too big for his own good."

Farkas nods, taking a swig of mead. "Afraid so," he tells Finch, "always has, probably always will. When we were children he always told me that the quill is mightier than the sword whenever I was training. He said that until I cut his writing quill in half."

We all laugh and drink until hours later when we've drunk too much. The four of us all seem to stumble about, intoxicated with laughter… and mead… and a drop of ale. We finally decide that it's time for all of us to go to sleep after a long, long day.

"Finch, you and Vorsomething can sleep in the guest room, if you wish," Farkas slurs, rubbing his eyes. He smiles. "Or perhaps you can share my bed with me, Finch…"

I glare daggers at him as Finch snorts. "That's all right, I'd rather sleep alone, thank you very much," she answers, waving as she and I walk towards the guest bedroom. She sighs, sitting down on one of the beds and lying down on her back. "My poor house…" she sighs again.

I frown, sitting down on the bed across from hers. "It'll be okay, I'm sure… well, not so much. I mean, you'll be okay, but your house is done for. Really done for," I tell her. She sits up, raising an eyebrow at me, and I finally decide that I should just shut up before I make things worse. I lie down, staring at the ceiling, but decide to speak up again. "You're not going to take Farkas' offer on, are you?"

There is silence for a moment. "What offer? The one about the goat?" she asks, speaking of when Farkas told her that someone in Whiterun was selling a goat.

I shake my head. "No, I mean the one about you and him…" I shudder, "sharing a bed."

Finch laughs. "Don't worry; I'm not planning on that happening any time soon. Trust me," she assures me as I turn my head towards her. She looks me in the eyes, twirling her hair. "Plus I… already had someone else in mind…"

My eyes go wide when I realize what she means. "You mean…" I start, my throat as dry as sand. Finch smiles at me, sitting up. "I… no, Finch. We can't. You know that you don't want to." I remind her and turn away. I hear her footsteps approach as I sigh. She puts her hand on my shoulder, bringing her lips close to my ear.

"Come on, Vorstag," she whispers, making me shiver, "we're both adults here, aren't we?"

I turn my head towards her, raising my eyebrows. "That's not the point, Finch. You're drunk. You'll come to your senses tomorrow and realize that this is a big mistake." I state, crossing my arms.

Finch smirks, leaning on my arm. "That's all right," she responds, "I can afford to make a few more mistakes…"

I sit up, scooting away. I can barely believe that I'm rejecting her, but I know it's the right thing to do. "Not big mistakes," I answer.

I groan when Finch sits next to me, kissing me on the cheek. I scoot away once more, only to have her scoot close again. She puts her hands around the back of my neck, pressing her lips into mine. I sigh slightly, not knowing what to do. I kiss her back, shaking my head at the same time. What am I doing? I shouldn't be doing this! If she was acting like herself right now, she definitely wouldn't approve of this. I suppose it's all a part of human nature, but that doesn't mean that I should just give up! Still, how can I possibly deny her? She's just… so beautiful and kind and… no, I can't think about that right now. It's immoral to take advantage of her like this. Of course, she wants this, doesn't she? I mean, maybe she does subconsciously. And what's the worst that could happen? Stop it, Vorstag. You know what the worst case scenario is; she already explained this to you.

I put my hands on her hips, kissing her neck. She moans and wraps her legs around my waist. I kiss her all over her face as she smiles and breathes heavily. I pick her up and set her on the bed, not taking my lips off of hers. I support my body with my elbows to avoid crushing her and she bites her lip, her eyes full of lust.

What the hell am I doing? This is wrong. This is very, very wrong. I know it is. So why can't I stop? Finch's hands tug at the collar of my tunic and I grab the bottom of it, pulling the shirt over my head. Finch hastily sits up and pulls her shirt over her own head, throwing it on the ground beside the bed. My breathing hitches when she unties her bra, throwing that to the ground. What am I doing? Oh gods… Finch grins devilishly at me, pulling off her pants and underwear. She sits in front of me, completely bare, as I gawk at her.

I can't do this. It's wrong, it's immoral, it's… I hurriedly pull my trousers off, throwing them on the ground. Finch carefully pulls off my loincloth, smirking up at me. "You're killing me, Finch." I tell her, shaking my head. She laughs, leaning forward and planting a hot kiss on my lips.

"That's not a problem, though, right?" Finch asks jokingly. I laugh breathily and lay Finch down on her back. I can't do this. Wait, no… don't say that. I sigh, staring into her eyes.

"Gods, you're beautiful, Finch," I tell her, smiling.

"So even when my clothes are nowhere near my body, you still decide to stare at my face?" she asks, laughing.

I nod, smiling and twirling a piece of her hair around my finger. "That's not a problem, though, right?" I ask, mocking her tone from a just a moment ago. She laughs inwardly, biting her lip.

My smile dissipates slightly. "I've… never done this before, Finch." I admit.

She grins at me, holding onto my neck. "Don't worry; I haven't, either," she tells me.

I exhale, nodding and position myself in front of her entrance, shaking. She nods reassuringly, giving me the okay to continue. I thrust myself in forcefully, causing her face to contort in pain. Finch makes a sound somewhere between a grunt and a groan as she grits her teeth. She nods once more, her eyes closed tightly. "Just… get it over with," she says. "I trust you."

I comply and thrust my hips again, breaking through her barrier. After a moment of her panting, she nods one last time, allowing me to continue. I start at a slow pace, eventually building up speed. Her pain changes into what I interpret as pleasure. The only thing I can make out her saying through her almost unintelligible speech is my name.

"Vorstag," she moans, holding onto my neck, "p-please don't stop…" I breathe heavily into her neck, picking up the pace. She moans loudly, but I'm far too distracted to shush her. It doesn't matter, though. I don't care if anyone hears us… especially Farkas. I hope he hears us. There's no turning back now, anyway.

It doesn't last very long, but I didn't expect for it to. After a while, we both reach the point where we can't take any more and we finally submit to the spark growing within us. We both pant heavily as I thrust a few more times. Eventually, the feeling subsides and I roll off of her onto my back. Finch looks at me with tired blue eyes. She grins at me slightly, rolling onto her side and putting a hand on my chest. I hold her close to me, grinning like a fool at the ceiling.

"I guess it's time to go to bed…" she smiles at me.

"We're already in bed. It's time to go to sleep." I correct her, laughing. I doubt that I'll ever be able to sleep ever again, though.


	9. Onmund

CH. 9

Finch P.O.V.

When my eyes open, I suddenly remember the events of last night. I sit up a bit too quickly and realize how much my head is pounding, most likely an aftereffect from the mead. I look down at myself and find that I'm completely nude, but Vorstag, who is asleep beside me, has his pants back on. My eyes go wide and I put my hand over my mouth, trying to be as silent as possible. This can't be happening… How could I be so stupid?! This is all my fault! I gingerly bend down and grab my clothes from the floor, standing up to quickly throw them on. I cannot believe this. It's awful, it's wrong, it's… it's my fault!

Once my clothes are back on my body where they belong, I exhale and run my fingers through my hair. I'm never drinking again. I'm absolutely disgusted with myself, partly because I did this but mostly because I knew that this would happen eventually and I didn't even try to take any precautions. And now what will come of it? What is supposed to happen now that I've ruined everything? I'm certainly not going to let this happen again- that will make things much worse. I don't even want to think of the consequences for this encounter, let alone any possibilities of the future.

I hear Vorstag stir from behind me and I tense up immediately, not knowing what to do. I can sense him staring at the back of my head.

"It's still early," he tells me, lightly grabbing onto my sleeve, "why don't you come back to bed?"

I close my eyes, shaking him off. "No, I'm… okay. I… you just need more clothes." I respond, crossing my arms.

I hear him shift in the bed and I assume that he's sitting up. "Is something wrong? Are you feeling okay?" Vorstag asks me, his voice sounding concerned.

"I'm feeling fine," I lie to him, rolling my eyes.

"No you're not, Finch. What's the matter with you?" he inquires, his voice still very stern.

"Nothing!" I snap, standing up and grabbing my coat off from where it hangs from a chair. I pull it onto my shoulders. "Go back to bed, Vorstag," I grit my teeth as I hear him stand up, "and leave me be for once, will you?"

I feel his warm hands on my cold ones and I frown because I know that this isn't his fault at all. It's mine. I sigh, trying to calm myself down.

"Finch," he starts, "I'm sorry. I know that this isn't your fault. It happened because of your condition last night. I shouldn't have let myself-"

I shake my head and cut him off, my eyes now full of tears. "It's not your fault," I tell him in an unsteady voice; "I'm the one who started this. I wanted this to happen. But I didn't want to make any mistakes…"

I hear him sigh as he turns me around lightly and embraces me. I rest my head against his chest, shutting my eyes and trying not to think about it. "It isn't a mistake, Finch," he tries to assure me in a comforting voice; "we're both going to be just fine, I know we are. We can just forget about this whole incident and move on. It's not a big deal."

I frown and a pain boils in my gut as I hear his sad voice. The pain is guilt, partly because I don't like hearing him so upset but mostly because I don't want to move on from this. I don't want to forget about last night because talking and enjoying my time with Vorstag, Aela and Farkas made me feel so content that it was as if I was home again. It made me forget, just for a moment, that our realities are harsh and sometimes cruel. It made me feel happier than I've been in such a long time, and I liked it.

As much as it kills me to admit it, it's true. I'm not the same person that I was long ago before I left Skyrim in the first place, and I'll never be that person again. Because there's no room for that kind of person in Skyrim. Because I can't go and slack off and forget about my responsibilities as the person I am. I'm a killer, a thief, a scoundrel, a Dragonborn. I can't go and pretend that I'm not that person, as much as I don't want to be. I can't quit on my duties as that person, and I certainly can't give up on my life and everything I stand for. It's as simple as that.

So why, then, does it kill me every day to sit idly by as my life passes me by? I know very well that everyone is better off if I stick to what I'm supposed to do. I'm the Dragonborn; I'm supposed to save everyone from the dragons that endanger the world. I defeated Alduin, but the dragons aren't gone and they'll probably never be gone. When I die, and I WILL die eventually, if not soon, there won't be any other Dragonborn who will take my place. I'm the one and only Dragonborn. I can't simply give up on my responsibilities. While I'm still around, not one single person is going to be harmed by any dragon because I won't let it happen. Because that's my job, right? I'm only in this world for the sole purpose of taking down the dragons, and if everyone is safe for now, then I've done my job.

My head spins as I exhale through my nose, letting go of Vorstag. I stare into his eyes, trying not to crack under pressure. "Vorstag," I start, shifting my gaze to the ground, "I think you should go home."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him cross his arms, shifting his weight from one foot to another. "W-what are you talking about, Finch? Are you feeling okay?" he asks me in a concerned tone of voice.

"Vorstag, I'm trying to be nice. This just isn't working out." I state, crossing my arms and looking back up at him. "Just go home. Go back to Markarth. We'll both be better off if we go our separate ways."

Vorstag furrows his brow and uncrosses his arms. "Finch, I can't go back to Markarth! They'll have me executed after what happened there!" Vorstag stands up tall, his eyes full of confusion.

I shake my head, gritting my teeth. "They won't have you executed, Vorstag!" I retort as I involuntarily clench my fists. "They're on our side, remember? Just go home!"

"No, they're on YOUR side, Finch, remember?" he barks back at me in a mocking tone. "They don't even know who I am; if I go back there, they'll kill me on the spot because I'm useless to them without you! Without you, I'm just some criminal to them! Markarth is NOT my home anymore!"

I glare daggers at him. Why does he have to make this so difficult? He's making this worse than it has to be! "LEAVE!" I just about scream at him, shaking from fury but mostly grief. "Don't you understand?! I don't WANT you around anymore! I want you to go away! We're both better off without each other, don't you see? Go find someone else to bother, you- you oaf!"

I feel tears stinging my eyes and threatening to pour down my cheeks. I turn away from him, staring at the ground and wiping my eyes. "Just… just go away!" I try to yell, but my voice cracks. I feel my bottom lip quiver as he sighs and grabs his shirt, pulling it over his head. He grabs his things, muttering to himself as he stomps towards the door and leaves without saying goodbye.

As soon as the door closes, I fall to my knees, nearly breaking down in tears. I feel the tears begin to pour down my face as I fall onto my behind, leaning my head against the bed. I tuck my knees up to my chest and begin to make a sound as if I were choking on my own tears. I wipe the tears off of my cheeks with the sleeve of my jacket, but they are quickly replaced by new ones. I cover my mouth to try and muffle the awful choking sob coming from my throat, but to little avail. I throw the back of my head against the frame of the bed, letting my arms go limp to lie on the floor. I can barely believe that this horrible wail is actually coming from my mouth, because I haven't made this sound for years, not since the day that I discovered that I was alone in the world because my family was dead.

It seems as if hours have passed before I finally give up on crying. I wipe the tears from my cheeks and eyes, picking myself up off of the floor. I decide to finally get out of this place. I have no reason to be here. I grab my bow from off of the table by the door and I throw my quiver of arrows over my shoulder. Once I'm sure I have all of my things I head for the door, before suddenly remembering what I'm missing. My eyes go wide and my hand digs into my pocket frantically, but I find it empty. I check my other pocket, as well, but I find that empty of everything except for the gold that I have. I check both of the pockets and the side table beside the bed again and again, only to find that there isn't anything there.

That bastard! I grit my teeth and grab the pillow off of the bed, throwing it across the room. My pink rose, the only thing that I have left of my sister, is gone. I scream as loud as I possibly can, clenching my fists. That bastard took my rose! It was the only thing in the world that remained of my home besides the traces of ash in the dirt by Rorikstead, and he TOOK IT from me! I KNEW I shouldn't have trusted him!

I shove the door open and march out to the dining hall, only to find it vacant of any of the Companions. They're probably out fighting or doing whatever it is that Companions do. I open the door that leads outside to Whiterun the same time that somebody else opens it from the other side. I take a step back as the door swings open and find that Vilkas is the one on the other side. Past the doorway I can see that it's pouring outside, as evidenced by the fact that he's soaking wet. Vilkas's chest is heaving, as if he had just been running. He stops for a moment and looks me up and down, nodding. He clears his throat, and I already expect the words that come out of his mouth.

"Hey, Finch… I'm sorry about yesterday. I underestimated your capabilities. I apologize for how I acted," he frowns, nodding. I cross my arms, raising my eyebrows.

"Is that so?" I ask, not completely convinced.

Vilkas nods once more, sighing. "I didn't mean to be rude. Well, actually… I did. But I know that that was a foolish thing to do, now. You seem to be hurried; what's the rush?"

I scowl, shaking my head. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch Vorstag, THAT'S my rush!" I bark at him. "Why does it matter to you?"

A crease forms above his brow as he raises his eyebrows. "I thought that you two were friends? What's the matter?" he asks in a perplexed tone.

"The MATTER is that that bastard took something extremely important to me- and he knew VERY WELL of the sentimental value of it!" I snap at him.

"So you're… going to kill him?" Vilkas asks skeptically, crossing his arms.

"You're damn right I am!" I answer, walking past him and out the door. He grabs me by the shoulder, spinning me around to face him. Vilkas purses his lips for a moment before leaning in and pecking me on the lips.

"I, uh… g-good luck, Finch," he tells me hurriedly, biting his lip and closing the door.

I glance around, still processing what had just happened. Why the hell does everyone have to confuse me? Since when did Vilkas have a CRUSH on me? Just YESTERDAY he was on the verge of snapping my neck! I shake my head, my headache returning to haunt me once more. The chilling rain drums steadily as it falls to the ground and onto my head. I shiver slightly, trying to think of where Vorstag would go. If he stole the rose, which he did, then he would most certainly try to get as far away as possible. He wouldn't go back to Markarth, nor would he go anywhere that I own a house. I rack my brain trying to think of where he might currently be headed. He must be traveling by foot, since he doesn't have the coin to hire a carriage; unless, of course, he somehow convinced the man driving the carriage…

I run as fast as I possibly can over towards the main gate of Whiterun, where the guards open the door for me. I sprint past them quickly, down towards the stables. I glance around in search of the carriage that usually sits in this area, but it's nowhere to be found. Panting, I run over to the man who is brushing a horse's hair.

"Did you see anybody hire the carriage?" I ask between pants, leaning against the wall.

The man thinks for a minute and then nods. "A young man hired the carriage about an hour ago… why do you ask?" he asks me, pausing for a minute.

I nod slightly, brushing a piece of hair behind my ear. "I, um… I have some business to take care of." I tell him nonchalantly, still panting slightly. "You didn't happen to hear where he was headed, did you?"

"Winterhold, I believe. I figured it to be a bit strange, seeing as there's not much there. That is, with the exception of the college…" he explains, trailing off slightly. He thinks for a moment and then glances up at me. "If you're planning on following him, I have a horse for sale that you could use to get there."

I raise my eyebrows slightly. "Is that so?" I ask, standing up taller.

I do have a horse, Shadowmere, from The Dark Brotherhood. However, Shadowmere is staying at the Sanctuary in Dawnstar and, unfortunately, that's quite a bit out of my way.

The man nods to the horse he was brushing a moment ago, a medium sized one with black hair. "She's all yours for 600 Septims, if you have them. She's still very young, capable of going great distances. She's fast, too. What do you say?" he asks, smiling brightly at me.

I nod without hesitation, grabbing a large coin purse out of my pocket and handing it to him. I'm fairly sure that it's much more than 600 Septims, but I've no time to count all of it out. Before he can respond, I nearly leap onto the horse's back, grabbing its reins and thrusting my torso forward. It springs forward with so much force that I'm nearly knocked off of the back of the horse.

The man guffaws loudly and waves goodbye as I hold onto the reins of the horse for dear life.

In a matter of hours, I've made my way to Winterhold. I leap off of the horse and start sprinting to the College, only to run smack into some sort of invisible wall. I fall back onto my behind, my head spinning when it almost hits the ground. I blink a few times, trying to regain my focus. I look up and see a blue flash of light for a moment, and Onmund, a friend of mine from the College, appears in front of me. He grins cheekily at me, offering me a hand. I return the grin, accepting the offer. He pulls me up to my feet and I dust myself off.

"Fancy seeing you here, Archmage," Onmund remarks, still smiling at me.

"I thought it'd be nice to stop by for once," I tell him. "I don't see you very often."

Onmund raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms skeptically. "Okay, Finch," he replies, standing up straight, "what are you REALLY doing here?"

I frown slightly, rubbing my forehead. "I… have some business to take care of, actually."

"I see…" Onmund nods, uncrossing his arms. "And what would that be?"

"I'm here to kill somebody." I blurt out, putting my hands on my hips.

Onmund's eyes go wide with alarm. "It isn't me is it?" he asks, genuine worry in his voice.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes. "No, it's not you. It's someone else. Someone who stole something from me."

He slouches forward, looking down at the ground. "I've been hearing things about you, Finch."

I frown. "What kind of things?"

Onmund chuckles slightly, trying to keep a light mood. "Not the kind of things that you would like to hear about a close friend of yours. Well, not the kind of things that you would want to hear about anyone, I suppose…"

"That bad, huh?" I sigh, rolling my eyes. "Well, I can assure you that they aren't all true, that's for sure."

"You can say that with ABSOLUTE confidence?" he asks, emphasizing the word 'absolute'.

"Well… it's been a strange period of my life." I tell him honestly, looking at the ground. I turn my gaze back up to his icy blue eyes, biting my cheek. "But I'm hoping to put that all behind me."

His brow furrows as he rubs his forehead with his palm, sighing and shaking his head. "I hope things get better for you, Finch," he tells me, though I sense a hint of remorse in his voice.

I stare at my feet, frowning. "Is something wrong, Onmund?" I ask him, not wanting to look him in the eyes. He clears his throat.

"It's just tha-" he starts, but he stops himself. I look up at him, but his eyes are staring at the ground, shifting back and forth as if he's trying to think of something to say. Finally, after a long pause, he looks me in the eyes. "I just… don't want you to get into any trouble, that's all…" he says, giving me a hint of a smile, though it seems forced.

His eyes are vacant of the usual warmth that envelops them, and I know that he has something more to say. "Are you sure that's all?" I ask him hesitantly, cocking my head slightly.

Onmund swallows and clears his throat, wringing his hands. "Uh, I um… yeah. That's all… I just want you to take care of yourself, Finch. If there's anything you ever need, then… I'll be here for you. I always have been. You know that, right?"

I nod, knowing that Onmund is a genuinely good person. "Of course, Onmund. Of course I do…" I answer, raising an eyebrow.

He smiles warmly at me, pulling me into a hug. "Good," he mutters, and I can hear the smile in his voice. "Remember that."

I let go of him and try to read through his blue eyes, but to no avail. I try to wonder about what could possibly be on his mind now, what he really wants to tell me. Onmund has always been open to talk to me about anything he has to say. He's very interpersonal. So then… why isn't he telling me everything? I frown as Onmund takes my hand and leads me towards the College and babbles on about how long it's been since I've been there and how I should say hello to everyone at the College. I stare at the cold snow blanketing the mountains as we enter the College, already wishing I was far away from this place.


End file.
